


The Most Exciting Thing I've Ever Known

by helloearthlings



Series: endless wonder [1]
Category: King Falls AM (Podcast)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Emotionally Repressed, Friendship, Gen, M/M, Mutual Pining, Past Character Death, Pets, Science Fiction & Fantasy, Trauma, Trust Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-31
Updated: 2019-08-08
Packaged: 2020-07-27 17:49:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 32,851
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20050090
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/helloearthlings/pseuds/helloearthlings
Summary: In which Sammy's best friends are shelving units and filing cabinets, and also maybe Jack and Ben. That's only if he tries a little harder to submit to the mortifying ordeal of being known, a feat that he's only ever accomplished with his cat, Lucille Ball, who can read his mind.He's also been given the world's most terrifying job offer.[The most niche Warehouse 13 AU you could ask for]





	1. One

**Author's Note:**

> If you've ever wondered what the nichest AU possible is.....I found it. 
> 
> Okay, so because Warehouse 13 is not in the cultural psyche, I'm gonna give everyone a quick crash course. I barely remembered any of this when I had the fic idea, so I'm willing to bet no one else remembers the key details of a campy SyFy show from the early 2010s. The plot of Warehouse 13 is very much not relevant to this fic, but a couple of general concepts should help:
> 
> 1\. The plot of the show is that Warehouse 13 is a storehouse for all of the most dangerous paranormal artifacts in the world. The agents in the show go and retrieve the artifacts that have supernatural powers.
> 
> 2\. There were Warehouses throughout history in other countries; 13 is the Warehouse of today that exists in the Badlands of South Dakota, disguised as an IRS facility, next to a tiny town called Univille. Yes, this fic is another excuse for me to write about South Dakota, which you'll see shine in chapter two. 
> 
> 3\. The Caretaker of the Warehouse is psychically bonded with the building. They're immortal and directly tied to the well-being of the Warehouse. There's a lot of rules surrounding this but none of that is super important to know right off the bat. The Keeper is also tied to the Warehouse, though in a different way - their subconscious is like a back-up system for the Warehouse, and that's more hereditary than a chosen gig. 
> 
> 4\. The team that retrieves the artifacts lives in a B&B near the Warehouse. They answer to the Caretaker and a board of Regents. Those that commit crimes against the Warehouse are frozen in bronze for all eternity. 
> 
> 5\. HG Wells is not a dead male author, she's an alive bisexual woman. This is only important because of course Lily is hooking up with her. 
> 
> I'm pretty sure these are the only necessary facts to make the fic easier to read. There's a little more from the show that's in there, but none of the KFAM characters have the same backstories, personalities, or relationships as the Warehouse 13 characters whose roles they're inhabiting. Basically the only implants from the show are Claudia's old jokes, Pete's vibes, and a psychically bonded pet. 
> 
> Okay. Long author's note, feel free to skip, but I'm willing to bet that very few people have actually seen this gloriously campy no-budget masterpiece of a show, so I wanted to lay out some groundwork. I'm super excited to write more of this, hope everyone enjoys the first chapter!

Sammy _ hates _meeting with the Regents.

It’s not that he hates the Regents as a whole. Not all of them, at least. He rather likes Ron, and Tim and Mary are a nice couple. He wouldn’t mind getting lunch with them on a more friendly basis, but when the Regents call Sammy in for an official meeting, he knows they’re going to tell him something he doesn’t like.

And besides, it’s not Ron or Mary waiting for him when he gets to the regular booth at Rose’s Diner on the outskirts of Univille. (Outskirts being a gracious term - the town has less than a thousand people, so that means the last in the row of twenty buildings in town.)

It’s his two least favorite Regents, actually, because that’s just his luck. Steven Grisham and Cynthia Higgenbaum are sitting opposite each other in the booth, and they both seem to have seen Sammy coming if their stares are anything to by. Grisham’s is derisive, Cynthia’s is grumpy. 

Fighting an internal battle as to where to choose to sit, Sammy slides into the seat next to Cynthia. Lesser of two evils. Her bark is worse than her bite and all that. 

“Stevens,” Grisham greets with his usual level of smarminess. “Good to see you.”

A bold-faced lie if there ever was one. Grisham has hated Sammy from the start, even before Sammy gave him a reason to. 

“Good to see you, too,” Sammy smiles, tight-lipped. Cynthia clicks her tongue next to him.

“You’re always late. There’s a whole section of timepieces available to you in the Warehouse, you’d think you could learn how to use one.”

“Traffic was hell,” Sammy says and Grisham rolls his eyes, looking out the window to the single city street of Univille. 

“This is important, Stevens, so if you could be respectful for the next ten minutes, we’d all appreciate it.”

“I will if you will.”

Sammy’s known Steven Grisham for ten years now, and has been made uncomfortable by him in every single one. Grisham’s only about a decade or so older than Sammy, but he has premature lines on his otherwise young face. Cynthia always talks about how handsome he is when he’s not around, but Sammy disagrees wholeheartedly. Grisham’s too slimy to be handsome. 

“If you’ll stop your anti-social animosity for a few minutes,” Cynthia snaps at him, predictable as always, “you’d know that we’re trying to give you a promotion.”

“A ...what?” Sammy squints at her, turning to Grisham who’s wearing a petulant, dissatisfied expression which probably means Cytnhia’s telling the truth. “I don’t want a promotion. I like my job.”

A waitress comes to their table, but Grisham shoos her away without a word. She’s probably used to them by now - whenever the Regents want to talk to Sammy, they call with very little notice and tell him they’ll be at Rose’s. 

“Yes, we’re all aware of how much you love dusting the Warehouse’s shelving units, reorganizing your filing cabinets, and letting other people do the hard work of reclaiming dangerous artifacts for you,” Grisham rolls his eyes violently. Sammy’s hackles raise but he doesn’t snap. They’ve had this argument countless times before. “But unfortunately for all of us, Merv has decided to ..._ retire _.”

Sammy stares. The stress Grisham puts on the word is uncomfortable to say the least, because it makes it sound like Merv decidedly did _ not _retire - but that’s just a distraction for him to focus on to keep the panicked thoughts racing through his head.

“You want me to ...to be the next Caretaker,” Sammy says, blank to disguise how fast his heart is racing. “You want me to be the Caretaker of Warehouse 13.”

Cynthia scoffs at him. “Oh, keep up, Sammy. You knew this day was coming.”

Sammy did not, in fact, know that, and his stare at her must tell her, because her gaze softens incrementally. 

In a rare show of sympathy, Cynthia pats his shoulder. It doesn’t help, mainly because Cynthia wrinkles her nose at the physical contact and then scoots just slightly away from him.

“We’ve been discussing it, and came to the conclusion that you’re the most suitable candidate,” Grisham says shortly, with a turn of his nose that says that he’d been outvoted. Sammy isn’t sure whether to hate him or thank him for it. 

He isn’t sure how he feels yet, other than short of breath. 

“Despite your, well..." Grisham’s smile twists, “...._highly_ unfortunate mishaps in the past, you’ve shown the most commitment to the Warehouse in your decade tenure. Merv himself recommended that the mantle should be passed to you. Congratulations.”

“I - um -” Sammy can’t swallow. The diner is far, far too hot. He’s suddenly uncomfortably aware of the other three families inside enjoying a perfectly ordinary meal together on a perfectly ordinary day. “You actually saw Merv?”

Grisham doesn’t quite make eye contact. “Of course we did. I have no idea why it’s been so long since you’ve seen him.”

“He leaves me notes,” Sammy says. It’s been at least three years since his last Merv sighting - since before he had friends there again, the last time he and the Warehouse were completely alone. “He really recommended me? After -”

“I wouldn’t have done it,” Grisham says, point-blank. “Let that be perfectly clear. I don’t care how much you love that place, you’re a security risk. But you’ve done a respectable enough job as its supervisor, and Ron Begley seems to think that means you have what it takes to have your soul permanently bonded to the place for all eternity. Trust me, I do _ not _want to have to deal with you for the rest of my life, or saddle future generations with you either. But here we are. You’ve got the job, if you want it.”

“I have a choice?”

“Of course you do,” Cynthia shakes her head at him in what seems like disgust, which is pretty unfair considering the situation, and that the Regents love to force him to do things he has no interest in all the time. “It’s a big decision. Your well-being will be tied to that building for probable centuries. You will be connected to every paranormal artifact that it holds. You’ll be effectively immortal. You _ have _to choose that yourself.”

“Are there - side effects? Like with Merv -”

“Again,” Grisham sounds even more annoyed now, “I don’t know why you haven’t seen Merv in so long. As for side effects, you’ll gain a truly unprecedented amount of power, power that very few in this world should ever be trusted with. Why you’ve been chosen is beyond my comprehension. You’ll be a little less human because of it, and you’ll never have an ordinary life. But there was never much hope of that for you anyway, was there?”

Grisham laughs, Cynthia titters, and Sammy thinks he’s going to faint. 

“I’m sure it wouldn’t change much,” Grisham’s still talking like this is all a big joke. “Outside the obvious. But your team already thinks you’re the Caretaker, don’t they? Ben was just bothering me about that last month -”

“Oh, how is Benny?” Cynthia flutters her eyelashes because she’s a cradle robber of the highest order. Sammy would normally find it funny except for how he’s seconds away from hyperventilating.

He loses track of the jokes at his expense until Grisham and Cynthia get up to go. Two weeks, they tell him as they leave, back to wherever the Regents go when they’re not bothering Sammy. Two weeks to decide whether he’s going to become immortally tied to the only home he’s ever known. 

And Grisham’s wrong. It wouldn’t be the same, with the team. If Sammy became the Caretaker, it would change _ everything. _

* * *

Warehouse 13 is a big, hulking piece of metal in the middle of South Dakota’s best approximation of a desert, and Sammy loves seeing that ugly facade melt away into the beauty of what’s held within more than anything. He lives for that feeling, the mundane becoming the extraordinary as soon as he steps foot inside. 

The Warehouse, built into the side of a towering hill, is larger than the front-facing side would ever suggest to an onlooker - _ bigger on the inside, _Jack likes to joke - and honestly, there has to be something supernatural about the way the aisles span on for so long.

Sammy’s the only person on earth who knows every nook and cranny the Warehouse has to offer, who could draw a map of every room, point to where every single one of the hundreds of thousands of artifacts were stored. No one could light a candle to how well Sammy has his home memorized. 

Is that what qualifies him to be bonded to the Warehouse forever? All the information he is inside his head? Or is the love he has for every little piece of the place, with what feels like its own living, breathing soul? Is it because this Warehouse is all he has? Is it because this is the only option for his life, that he’d be useless elsewhere? Especially in an ordinary life? 

An ordinary life - Sammy guesses Grisham’s right. He’s never thought he could have one of those, not since he was born and realized that he would have to go through life all alone, with no one to rely on for guidance or affection. 

Except now, there’s a couple of slight hiccups in that philosophy. 

Sammy steps into his office to find Ben rolling around on the floor with Lucille Ball, shouting as she tries to swipe a claw at his face to make him let her go. Jack’s crouched next to the door that leads down into the Warehouse itself, phone out and filming Ben’s screams.

“What are you doing to my cat?” Sammy asks and they both turn to him, each of their expressions lighting up. Jack’s grinning at him in that lazy way that makes Sammy’s stomach flip-flop. Ben, of course, has his usual mega-watt grin. 

“Having fun!” Ben pulls Lucille Ball more firmly against his chest. She looks at Sammy with luminous green eyes and says _ not happy, but for baby kitty. _“Isn’t that right, Lucy?”

He coos at her in an obnoxious baby voice. She projects to Sammy, _ only because he’s baby is this okay. _

Lucille Ball took to thinking of Ben as her baby kitty not long into her tenure here at the Warehouse, and Sammy honestly can’t blame her for that. He’s never told Ben that particular truth, though he thinks Lily would really get a kick out of it. He’s saving it for later ammunition. 

“Her name is Lucille,” Sammy informs Ben, trying to school his expression into something serious instead of letting a smile take over. 

“From I Love Lucy, you pedantic bastard,” Ben groans, but sits up, pulling Lucille Ball with him. “She likes it!”

“I think I’d know better than you, since I’m the only person she can _ talk _to,” Sammy says a little snidely. 

Jack laughs, and God, he can’t do that when Sammy’s in a fragile emotional state already. Jack crosses the room to pick Lucille up out of Ben’s tight grasp. 

“I’ll save her from Ben’s clutches,” Jack says as Lucille contentedly purrs in his arms. _ Daddy, _ she says. Oh, Jesus. Sammy’s cat _ cannot _ be calling Jack that. That’s what she calls _ him. _This isn’t good, not good at all. “Is she happier now?”

“Slightly,” Sammy manages to get out, and crosses the room to get to his desk, his safe space, where he can hide behind a computer screen and a filing cabinet and not make anymore eye contact. “Where’s Lily?”

“Hooking up with HG Wells in Paris,” Jack says with an amused glint in his eye. “She got whisked away. Back tomorrow.”

“No one ever asks me for permission to go places anymore,” Sammy says to distract himself from the million other things on his mind right now. “You all used to fear me.”

“Until we learned you’re just an old softie,” Ben scrambles to his feet and tries to reach up to mess with Sammy’s hair, but Sammy hits his hand away in time. “Old softie recluse who’s never given an order a day in his life.”

“Because I know the three of you, and just how well you listen,” Sammy says, but it’s not like Ben doesn’t have a point. Sammy gave up on being anyone’s boss practically the day he met Jack and Lily, who were clearly going to be in charge of themselves. Sammy finds the artifacts and Jack and Lily retrieve them. Sammy gets to stay in the Warehouse and Jack and Lily get to use their CIA training. They’re all happiest in their respective roles, with Sammy not trying to pretend that he’s in charge, because he very much isn’t.

If anything, Lucille Ball is in charge. She bats at Jack’s chin. _ Happy now. _

How much would Sammy being the Caretaker instead of just the Warehouse’s supervisor change all of that? 

“Emily’s making dinner at the B&B for us tonight,” Jack says, casting Ben a quick look before returning his gaze to Sammy. “I’m sure she would love if you and Lucille Ball stopped by.”

Jack’s started inviting the cat, too, ever since Sammy started using her as an excuse not to leave the Warehouse. It’s one of the sweetest and most annoying things that Jack does. And Jack’s _ so _sweet, all of the time. 

“I appreciate your use of her given name,” Sammy clears his throat uncomfortably. “But, um - I have some paperwork to go over. From my meeting. That I was just at. Give Emily my best. I’ll be over for dinner on Sunday.”

Sammy had given Emily Sunday dinners years ago, back during the months when it was just the two of them here and Sammy moved out of the B&B and into a cot into the room just off his office, that had just become his office. 

She’d been so worried about Sammy being here all alone, so he had to promise her that he would come over every Sunday so she could check on him. Even though he's not alone here anymore, he still can't renege is promise to Emily. She's his oldest, and at many times in his life, only friend. 

Jack’s face falls, and Sammy can’t even look to see Ben’s expression. Jack’s not great at hiding his emotions, but Ben wears them on his sleeve like no other. 

“Okay,” Jack still smiles, tight-lipped. “Guess we’ll see you in the morning, then. You can tell us about how the meeting went.”

He deposits Lucille Ball on Sammy’s desk, who immediately leaps into Sammy’s lap. _ Mm. Home. _

Sammy strokes her head without thinking about it. “Um. Yeah. I’ll see you then.”

Ben is suitably crestfallen as Jack pulls him out of Sammy’s office and into the hall that will take them to the Warehouse’s front, and Sammy feels an uncomfortable spike of guilt. 

“Hey, Ben?” Sammy calls just before they leave, and Ben pokes his head back in the room with a tentative smile. “Cynthia says hi.”

“Oh, Jesus,” the smile turns to horror, and Sammy and Jack both laugh and rib him for a moment about his penchant for attracting older women. It’s only for a minute, though, and then Sammy and the Warehouse are alone again.

Well, alone with Lucille Ball, who’s looking up at Sammy with a perturbed expression. _ Why sad? Don’t sad. _

_ Not sad, _ Sammy tells her. _ Just ...melancholy. _

She doesn’t like that answer, if her wrinkled nose is anything to go by, and she nudges Sammy’s hand until he’s stroking her again. _ It’s okay, Daddy. _

_ You talking to me or Jack? _ Sammy shudders even thinking about it. _ Also, don’t say Daddy. _

Christ, to think he was telling a cat not to say Daddy….

Lucille Ball doesn’t always think in words and sentences - she does more so now than when Sammy first got accidentally psychically bonded to her using an artifact in an information retrieval session gone slightly askew. 

Sammy couldn’t just let her go back into the demon wilds of South Dakota after that, and now he’s trained her to be able to talk to him, at least a little. Usually, her psychic projections in his directions have more to do with feelings than thoughts, and that’s what Sammy’s getting from her right now. 

It’s the feeling of being scooped up by big hands, feeling safe and warm and loved, and Jack kissing the top of her head. 

_ I didn’t need to know that, _Sammy tells his cat, suddenly feeling nauseous because the thought is, unfortunately, radiating joy that’s part Lucille Ball’s and part Sammy’s. 

_ Sad _ , Lucille reiterates, butting her head against his chest. _ Why sad? Something bad. _

_ Complicated, _Sammy tells her. She doesn’t have the widest vocabulary, what with being a cat and all, so he can understand the confusion. She gets his emotional state broadcast a bit louder than he does hers, he thinks, since his feelings are much more complex. 

He doesn’t know if Lucille Ball will understand the nuances of what he’s going through, but he’ll try anyway. She can be his only confidante in this matter, because it’s going to hurt too much to ask anyone else for help.

_ Do you think Jack and Ben would ever forgive me if I had to stay here for the rest of my life? The rest of my life being several centuries more than theirs. _

Lucille, predictably, squints up at him in a way that says she’d be raising her eyebrows if she had any. Sammy strokes the sides of her face.

_ Never mind, _ Sammy holds her closer, and decidedly doesn’t get choked up. _ If I’m going to live forever because I’m psychically linked to the Warehouse, will you live forever too since you’re psychically linked to me? _

She meows up at him. _ Stop sad. _

“I guess I am sad,” Sammy mumbles out loud, pulling his feet up and his box of saltine crackers out from under his desk, and checks his mapping system for artifacts like he does every night when he’s trying to avoid those pesky things called thoughts and feelings.

It’s harder tonight than it’s been in years. 

* * *

Sammy must’ve dozed off at his desk, because when he wakes up, it’s clearly only a couple of hours later, and Lucille Ball is no longer in his lap. 

She likes to go curl up in the aisles, so Sammy doesn’t worry about her as he blinks himself awake - probably his own influence, as Sammy spends more time in the aisles than anywhere else - and realizes he’s not alone in the room.

“Hey, sorry, did I wake you up?” Jack says from the doorway, wearing a wrestling sweatshirt from a high school in California instead of a button-down, his voice a little groggy. 

“What are you doing here?” Sammy’s not quite awake yet, which he’ll blame later for his sudden fearful outburst of, “Are you trying to steal something?”

“What, no, Jesus!” Jack stares down at him like he’s grown an extra head. “I came to find you, but when I saw you were asleep I just - put the blanket around you, I didn’t want to wake you -"

Oh, shit, there is a blanket around his shoulders. Christ, how stupidly paranoid can Sammy be? This is Jack Wright he just accused of stealing. Jack, the best guy Sammy knows, who’s almost died recovering more artifacts than Sammy can name. Jack, who’s been here for three years and has never given Sammy a reason to distrust him. 

Jack, who likes Sammy enough to laugh at his jokes and help with his research and even organize his files, all the while with a smile on his face. Who keeps inviting Sammy for dinner, who came here to put a blanket around his shoulders and go without a word. 

“I’m sorry,” Sammy says. Jack’s clearly still a little disturbed, his eyes going from Sammy to the rest of the room as if a real thief was getting ready to pop out. “Bad day, that’s all.”

Jack takes a couple of tentative steps closer to him, concern growing in his eyes. “Your vibes are extremely out of whack. Like you’re in pain. Emotional distress, at the very least.”

Jack gets vibes about things. It’s part of why Sammy had chosen him for the Warehouse team in the first place. He’d hesitated when he’d done his background checks and found pictures, because God was Jack just too handsome with the chiseled jaw and dark wavy hair, but Jack came highly recommended from every Warehouse-affiliate who scoped him out.

He had vibes about feelings, people, situations. Some low-level psychic power. His sister, Lily, didn’t have anything like that, but she did have an eidetic memory. They were both CIA before they came here. Sammy thought they’d be hard to convince, and Lily was. She’s still a skeptic at heart, but a skeptic who loves her brother and a good mystery. The Warehouse could give her that.

Jack, though - Jack had been delighted from the start. 

Sammy rubs his eyes, wondering how much Jack can tell from his vibes. They’re not psychically linked - Jack can’t read his mind like Lucille Ball can. Jack can usually read moods, or if someone’s hiding something, or where an object he’s looking for might be. 

It’s very useful out in the field when Jack’s searching for paranormal artifacts to bring back to the Warehouse’s endless storage units. 

It’s very inconvenient when Sammy doesn’t want Jack to know that he’s considering taking a job that would mean erasing any future they could have together - 

Sammy cannot think about that when Jack’s here. He can barely think about it when Jack’s not. It scares him too badly. It always has, but now he has even more reason for fear and caution. 

Sammy’s known Jack for three years, and he’s gone running to hide in the Warehouse aisles every time it seems like Jack is about to ask him something important. Because there’s no good answer that Sammy’s been able to give yet. 

“What did you need me for?” Sammy asks instead of beginning to address any of that. “Is everything okay?”

Jack seems to realize he won’t get an answer about Sammy’s current mental state, if his concerned frown is anything to go by. He does reach over to pat Sammy’s shoulder, though, and the touch makes Sammy’s extremities go slightly numb. 

“Ben’s got a fever,” Jack explains and Sammy feels a sudden protective urge that he really only gets about the team’s newest, youngest, and most vulnerable member. “I said I’d call you to check and see if that was a side effect of the Babel Stones we recovered last week, but he said that I should come and get you because you and Lucille Ball are the only thing that will make him feel better.”

Jack smiles a little sheepishly, but also with a knowing sparkle in his eye that clearly says _ Ben, am I right? _

Ben is universally adored by everyone who meets him. Even Sammy, who should’ve been immune to anyone's charms, was thoroughly taken in by Ben's spell. 

“Oh, fine,” Sammy sighs, knowing it’s a lost cause and Ben will pout for days if Sammy doesn’t come in his hour of need.

“Great,” Jack grins. “I’ll text Emily and tell her to heat up some leftovers for you.”

“This has _ trap _written all over it,” Sammy grumbles, but gets up to follow Jack out of the Warehouse regardless. He doesn’t go look for his cat, figuring that she’s better off roaming the aisles in peace rather than dealing with a sick Ben. 

Sammy hasn’t had a car of his own for awhile now, and usually depends on Jack for a ride. Jack and Lily share a car that they came in from DC, and Ben has a tiny little junker that he’s had since he was sixteen. Emily has a car too, but Sammy rarely uses that one since Emily mostly stays at the B&B and Sammy rarely makes appearances there. 

“When’s the last time someone got you to leave your office that wasn’t for Sunday night dinner?” Jack says as he pulls onto the main gravel road, voice mostly teasing but Sammy can tell that there’s a gravity behind his words, too. 

“I left today for my meeting.”

“Not when the Regents made you leave - when you came and socialized with us.”

Sammy looks out the window at the rolling landscape of the Badlands to avoid making eye contact with Jack. The Badlands wouldn’t change through the centuries. Not like everything else would. 

Jack casts him a look from the corner of his eye. Jack’s thirty-five now, and Sammy’s thirty-six. But what if Sammy stays thirty-six? What will Jack look like at forty, fifty, sixty? Sammy thinks that the idea of Jack getting older would’ve been a warm, comforting thought yesterday.

Today, it just ties his stomach in knots, because what if Jack gets older and Sammy doesn’t? 

It’s stupid and pointless to think about, Sammy reminds himself. He wouldn’t get to see Jack grow old like that anyway. He’ll get a few more years of Jack, maybe. He’s not naive enough to think that Jack liking him means anything more than what it is. 

“Well, I know I left for Ben’s graduation,” Sammy says because that’s honestly the last time he remembers, and he knows defensiveness leaks into his voice. 

Jack sighs, hands tightening on the wheel. “You know I just want you to be happy, right? And not live off of saltine crackers?”

Sammy nods, because he does know, and he appreciates it even if he doesn’t act like it. It’s quiet for a moment before Jack asks, voice tentative “_ Can _ you leave?”

“I - what?”

"Can you,” Jack repeats, and Sammy thinks he’s blushing though he can’t tell with the setting sun obscuring Jack’s face slightly, “leave the Warehouse. For longer periods, for more days.”

“Yes,” Sammy says, more testily than he intends, “because I'm not tied to the place on a metaphysical level. And even if I was the Caretaker, I would still be allowed to _leave_. I know you all have your suspicions about me -”

“Hey, don’t get annoyed,” Jack says, voice a little snappish as well, but only for a second before he softens. “We’re all just concerned, and wish you would come to the B&B more. It’s not good for you to be cooped up alone.”

“I’ve been alone all my life,” oh, God, what the _ fuck _is Sammy saying, and why does he sound so mean? He didn’t mean to, but now it’s just happening and he can’t stop himself. “You’ve known me for three years. I coped just fine before you, and I’ll cope just fine after you. I just - Jesus - I hate being smothered -”

“Sammy,” Jack says quickly, turning to him with wide eyes. God, Sammy hates himself so much right now. Why can’t he just say how he feels instead of letting his mouth take over and be offended at the slightest insinuation that someone cares about him. “I didn’t mean it like that. I’m sorry.”

They’re silent for the rest of the drive, and the tension between them is too much for Sammy to bear.

There’s always been tension between him and Jack, but it’s been the low-level, almost pleasant kind. It scares the hell out of Sammy, but it’s also just that slightest bit thrilling. How it feels when you know someone notices you. Even likes you. Wants to be closer to you but doesn’t know how to ask. 

Sammy’s never been comfortable with that tension, but he knows he’d miss it if that tension disappeared. 

Or if it permanently turned into whatever this is, this miserable feeling in the pit of his chest. 

Because Sammy doesn’t know if he’ll cope after Jack. Because _ after Jack _might mean several hundred years after Jack’s died. 

Sammy stares at the window, just in case the tears in his eyes threatening to spill catch Jack’s attention. There’s just too much to think about.

And only two weeks before Sammy has to give the Regents his final answer. 


	2. Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one's a little longer! I hope everyone enjoys it, it's been so much fun writing!

Sammy isn’t ashamed to admit that he searches particularly well for an artifact that’s not within driving distance the next morning before the team meeting. 

Luckily, he gets a ping on his map for a small town in Massachusetts - a long flight, covering a lot of country, with a mission that’s not entirely straightforward and will probably require at least a couple of days’ work. 

Although this is Jack and Lily Wright he’s talking about, who somehow managed to find John Wilkes Booth's Boot in three hours when Sammy predicted twelve days within their first week at the Warehouse. So he’s not holding his breath, but it will get Jack and Lily away for, at the very least, a day. Sammy can tell Ben to book them on a later flight if he really needs to have more time to avoid his feelings. 

“Getting rid of us again,” Lily remarks dryly when Sammy hands her the summary he typed up, plus her plane ticket. “Didn’t realize your fight with Jack was one of the banishing nature.”

“Oh, shut up,” Jack takes his own ticket from Sammy with no small amount of force, not quite making eye contact. 

“You guys had a fight?” Ben’s curled up in his desk opposite Sammy’s, wearing a sweatshirt and two blankets. Sammy told him he didn’t have to come in today if he was still sick, but Ben has a very extreme fear of missing anything important. Much more so social-wise than work - Ben hates missing good jokes more than anything. 

“It’s nothing,” Jack tells him, and Sammy wonders if that’s the truth or not. Jack still isn’t making eye contact. “Looks like this needs to be found quickly anyway. Three women ended up in prison after chasing down this politician -”

“Who was wearing JFK’s tie clip?” Lily snorts. “Well, good thing I’ll be immune to any seductive power of our thirty-fifth president. Jack, have lots of fun resisting your primal urges.”

Jack bites his lip, half-glaring at Lily. Clearly embarrassed even though he doesn’t need to be. They all know Jack is gay - not in the same way they all know that Lily’s gay, because she won’t shut up about it - but everyone knows about Jack in a quieter way.

Sammy doesn’t know if they know about him or not. Emily does, but she might be the only one to have it verbally confirmed. He’s certainly never told anyone else. 

He feels like naming his cat Lucille Ball was a dead giveaway, but he’s artfully avoided ever discussing his sexuality with anyone here.

It’s not as if Sammy’s afraid of their reactions like he was with his prior team. He’s just afraid that it’s a vulnerability he can’t afford to have. 

Are Caretakers allowed to be gay? Sammy should check the rules. Maybe he can get out of this on a technicality. 

“I’m sure if a woman was in possession of the tie clip, you’d have just as much fun,” Jack says, though his voice sounds more annoyed than teasing. 

“I’d never deny it. Did I tell you how Helena and I -”

“Nope,” Sammy cuts her off before she reaches the point of no return. “No lesbian sex stories today, Lily. I’m sure you and Helena had a lovely time in Paris. Give her my best next time you see her. Your flight leaves Rapid City in three hours, you’d better get out of here.” 

Lily makes a few more snide remarks about her sex life that have both Ben and Sammy covering their ears and Jack throwing his pencil at her, but she takes her paperwork and heads out of the Warehouse. 

“Hey,” Jack catches Sammy’s arm before he leaves, lowering his voice slightly as he looks across the room at Ben. “We good? I really didn’t mean to piss you off last night.”

Sammy swallows, all too aware that Jack’s still touching him. “We’re good. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean any of what I said. Just - rough day. We’ll talk when you get back.”

Sammy’s the master of telling people he’ll talk to them about something important after they get back from a dangerous mission, and then gets too busy discussing the dangerous mission with them to ever return to whatever they were supposed to talk about before.

Jack smiles at him before leaving though, so at least Sammy knows he’s somewhat forgiven. 

“What’d you guys fight about?”

It’s easy to get rid of Jack and Lily when Sammy needs to. Their job necessitates being away from the Warehouse for periods of time. 

It’s completely impossible to get away from Ben. This office used to just have one desk. Sammy hadn’t installed the second one. Ben had, on his third day here, and jerry-rigged a video game system to go with his newly christened half of the room. 

Now Ben’s sitting there innocently, knees drawn up to his chest with wide green eyes trained on Sammy, saying  _ tell me, tell me, tell me.  _

Sammy goes back to his own desk. “It’s nothing - dumb stuff. I thought maybe today we could go and cat-proof the Trap Aisle. I’ve found Lucille Ball in the lobster pot three times now. You’d think she’d learn -”

Ben makes a pitiful moaning sound as he drops his head onto his knees and squeezes his eyes closed. “Sammy. I’m sick.”

“Yes, I know. I told you that you didn’t have to come in, and yet here you are. So as long as you’re here -”

Ben lifts his head, a glint in his eye that Sammy doesn’t like. “Let’s play Mario Kart.”

“Ben -”

“Where’s Lucy? I want her to be my mascot.”

Sammy is, and always has been, a complete and total pushover. 

He drags his spindly office chair over to Ben’s elaborate gaming system. How he set this up, Sammy has no clue, but it was only within a week of Ben arriving at the Warehouse. Ben has little to no shame, and Sammy admires him for it as much as he’s envious. 

Sammy goes to fetch his cat - his office sits just above the endlessly spanning aisles of artifacts, with a single staircase heading down into the fray. Lucille Ball is curled up at the bottom of the staircase today, and she blinks up at him when she sees him.

_ Baby’s here,  _ she intuits solemnly as she notices Sammy approaching.

_ Yeah, yeah, the kitten is sick, so he’ll want extra cuddles,  _ Sammy tells her as he picks her up. She likes being held, otherwise she would probably bolt in the other direction at the thought of Ben squeezing her all day. 

“Lucy!” Ben makes grabby hands as Sammy deposits her into his lap. He holds her close, making intelligible baby talk at her as Lucille Ball blinks over at Sammy. 

_ Needy.  _

_ Always,  _ Sammy responds, smiling slightly as he ruffles Ben’s hair. He can give Ben video games today. 

“How do you play this again?’ Sammy asks when Ben hands him a controller. Sammy hadn’t played a video game since he was a kid until he met Ben, and Ben had delighted in distracting him from the filing system and instead educating Sammy about the finer points of Mario Kart. 

Ben also bought him his first iPhone, two weeks after meeting him. Sammy had been insistent he didn’t need one, since the Warehouse had its own communication system, but Ben told him point-blank that he’d be too embarrassed to know him if he was still carrying around a flip phone. 

It’s not Sammy’s fault he’s an old man at thirty-six. He’s lived in some form of isolation for a long time, self-imposed or otherwise. 

“You’re a billion years old,” Ben says with no small amount of affection as he adjusts Sammy’s controller in his hand. “Maybe literally for all we know.”

Something heavy and caustic twists in Sammy’s stomach even though the comment is meant to be a joke. 

Ben starts to patiently explain the game, but Sammy suddenly finds himself cutting him off with “I’m not, you know.”

“Not what?” Ben blinks at him a couple of times, clearly thinking they’d moved on. 

Sammy tries not to blush, looking at the ground. “A billion years old.”

Ben seems to realize he’s hit a sore spot, even though he makes dozens of old jokes about Sammy a day with varying levels of actual humor to them. He frowns, leaning toward Sammy to brush their elbows together. 

“I meant metaphorically,” Ben says, though Sammy can sense the regret in his voice. “Why are you being so sensitive about that? Does it have something to do with your argument with Jack? Listen, I can start making old jokes about Jack, too, if you think he needs to be taken down a peg.” 

Sammy smiles despite himself, and resists the urge to ruffle Ben’s hair some more. “Don’t worry about it, Ben. Let’s just play Mario Kart.”

Ben doesn’t need to be told twice, and truth be told it’s a good distraction for Sammy to stay away from his thoughts for a little while. He’s got something inane to focus on, something to do with his hands, and Ben to make sarcastic comments at. 

Sammy does go down to the Trap Aisle eventually though, because he’s going to at least fix the lobster pot today just to have something productive to mark down in his notes. Besides, he doesn’t want Lucille falling into it again. 

That’s until Sammy trips over Rube Goldberg’s wires and ends up strung upside down, hair falling out of his ponytail and falling uncomfortably into his face. 

“Shit,” Sammy moans, his head rushing with blood. He can’t reach his Farnsworth communication device that fell to the ground, and has to dig into his front pocket for his iPhone. 

Ben cackles as he approaches, and Sammy tries to swat at him. It doesn’t work from his hanging position, as expected, but it makes him feel a little better even though Ben side-steps his swipe easily. 

“You and Lucy have more in common every day,” Ben giggles as he disconnects one of the wires. He’s going to not pay attention and Sammy’s going to fall to the floor and hurt his back. This is already a fact. Good thing he’s only about half a foot off the ground. “You get stuck in the same traps -”

“Lucille Ball gets stuck in the lobster pot,” Sammy maintains, and Ben disconnects another wire that’s clamped around his foot. He doesn’t fall entirely, but does get distinctly more uncomfortable in the half-escaped position, and tries to support himself with an arm on the floor. This is really a two-person job.

Oh no, now Sammy wishes Jack was here to hold him upright. Bad brain. Don’t go there. 

“She also gets the same grumpy expression on her face that you do, and tries to go hide under the desk which you would do if you were small enough,” Ben says in a sing-song voice. 

“We’re psychically bonded, that’s how psychic bonds work,” Sammy says, and Ben disconnects the last wire and he comes crashing to the ground. He doesn’t land directly on his head, but he knows his hip is gonna be sore tomorrow.

Ben winces. “Oops.”

Sammy sighs, not even bothering to glare at him as he rubs his neck. Ben slides down to sit next to him on the ground, fluttering hand next to Sammy’s face. Sammy leans in and lets Ben pat his cheek a couple of times in apology, because he’s magnanimous like that. 

“Come over again tonight,” Ben says, too hopeful. “It was so nice having you there last night, we all agreed.”

“And cut into your alone time with Emily?” Sammy pushes Ben’s shoulder to deflect attention from himself. It sort of works, if Ben’s blush is anything to go by. 

“Emily and I get plenty of alone time,” Ben says, and then makes a face. “Um. Not in that way. That’s not what I meant.”

“Oh, we  _ all  _ know that’s not what you meant,” Sammy laughs. “Even Lucille Ball knows.”

“My  _ point, _ ” Ben reiterates with a miffed expression, “is that Emily and I would both like it if you came over and had dinner and watched a movie with us.”

Sammy stares out into the long abyss-like aisles of the Warehouse instead of responding, feeling no small amount of guilt. It’s not that he doesn’t want to take Ben up on his offer. Of course he does. But the thing about Sammy is that he never lets himself have the things he wants. 

He doesn’t trust himself with wanting things anymore. 

Maybe that’s a reason to be the Caretaker. Would he even really want anything anymore? Could he want things outside the Warehouse? He could save himself from the pressure and turmoil of his various vulnerabilities. 

Sammy glances over at Ben, who’s staring up at him with wide eyes.  _ Please, please, please. _

Sammy hadn’t planned on letting Ben into his life. Sammy hadn’t planned on knowing Ben at all, and in fact had been very ready to use an artifact to erase the memory of the reckless college kid who’d broken into the Warehouse’s computer system two years ago. 

But Ben hadn’t just wormed his way into a job at the Warehouse, he’d wormed his way into everything Sammy did, everything Sammy  _ is.  _ Sammy had never had much of a family in his life before coming here, and certainly not anyone who relied on him. 

Ben, though. Ben’s like his little brother. 

(And Lily’s his older sister, Emily’s his fraternal twin, Jack is something he can’t think about, Herschel and Cecil were like grandfathers -)

Sammy draws his knees to his chest, feeling lightheaded and he knows exactly why. 

“I’ll be over on Sunday,” Sammy mumbles, half under his breath, and he feels Ben deflate next to him. 

“Okay,” Ben’s voice leaks with disappointment, but he doesn’t push any further.

Sammy stops reorganizing the Trap Aisle when Ben leaves for the evening, figuring he’s not going to risk having to make another call for help. Instead, he wanders through various sections of the Warehouse, Lucille Ball following at his heel.

Sammy means to give some serious thought to the Regents’ offer, but instead he just thinks of the stories of each of the artifacts he sees. Sammy hasn’t personally recalled very many of them - his job has always fallen firmly within the Warehouse’s walls. But he remembers Jack and Lily’s expeditions, the calls he’d get during each one, which ones had almost taken his friends away from him so soon after he found them. 

Sammy hadn’t meant to make friends when he recruited Jack and Lily, and certainly hadn’t meant to make friends with Ben, the annoying hacker kid who made his job harder. Now they’re all irreconcilable parts of his life, and he doesn’t want to be without them. 

But wanting things has always been Sammy’s downfall, in the end. 

He let himself have Lucille Ball, though, because she’s just a cat. He can want something small. The fact that she’s in his mind was uncomfortable at first, but Sammy’s grown used to her presence there. It’s like always carrying around a little friend in his head that loves him unconditionally because she doesn’t know any better. Cats forgive flaws and mistakes more easily than people do. 

That night, like most nights, Lucille Ball curls up on Sammy’s chest while he sleeps on his cot in the room next to his office that’s about the size of a broom cupboard. 

Lucille Ball doesn’t mind it, though. It doesn’t make her concerned for Sammy’s mental health. She’s content on the cot with him.  _ Sleepy. Nice warm. Mm.  _

Sammy’s glad he has his kitty. He hopes that if he lives forever, she will, too. 

* * *

Jack and Lily get back from Massachusetts on Sunday afternoon, so Sammy doesn’t call them in for a debrief and instead just catches a ride with Ben to the B&B for dinner after a long day of Ben needling Sammy about needing to do another computer upgrade on the security system and Sammy crying from frustration because technology is the devil and Thomas Edison was a witch. 

Or at least that’s how Ben characterizes Sammy’s attitude about the upgrade. He may or may not be right. 

When they arrive, Lily’s sprawled out on the couch with her book, while Emily and Jack sit opposite each other at the table as Emily dabs a paper towel against Jack’s eye.

Which is blackened. Jack has a black eye. 

“What happened?” Sammy loses his usual filter, not even bothering to shrug his jacket off as he rushes across the room to kneel next to the table and turn Jack’s head towards him to get a better look. 

“Don’t look so worried,” Jack’s eyes widen only incrementally, but Sammy notices because of his face’s immediate proximity to Jack’s. They’re only a few inches apart. Sammy can’t find it in him to be paranoid about that because the bruise on Jack’s right eye looks quite painful, swelling slightly. 

Without quite realizing he’s doing it, Sammy takes the damp washcloth from Emily’s hand and starts dabbing at the spot. Jack’s smile at the gesture is small, but Sammy doesn’t miss it.

“How can I not be worried?” Sammy asks, and hears Ben butt in from behind him, as is his way. 

“Can I guess what happened? I bet Jack did something cool and heroic and self-sacrificing. He took the black eye to save a puppy.” 

Lily snorts, and when Sammy turns, he sees that she’s flung her legs over the side of the couch, pulling herself up to give the four of them a wicked grin that says  _ I’ve got dirt. _

“Jack’s hero complex is well-known and ever-continuing,” Lily has a dangerous sparkle in her eye that spells nothing good. Sammy feels Jack tense next to him, and wishes he could touch Jack’s leg in reassurance, but instead just dabs the washcloth against Jack’s eyebrow, which has a bit of dried blood on it. “But this time…. _ oh,  _ this time…”

“What?’ Emily turns from Jack to Lily with a puzzled expression, eyebrows creasing. Jack’s gritting his teeth now. “C’mon, Jack, it can’t be that bad.”

“It’s  _ bad _ ,” Lily takes pure delight in saying. “Jack made a rookie mistake -”

“I caught the fucking tie clip! That’s not a mistake! That’s my four years as a receiver coming in fucking useful!” 

“No gloves,” Lily finishes with a self-satisfied smirk, staring Jack down. Jack rolls his eyes in response as Emily winces and makes a sympathetic noise.

“And?” Ben demands, crossing the room to Lily, invading her space on the couch. She shoves at Ben, who shoves back. Ben’s smaller, though, and Lily puts him firmly in a headlock within seconds. 

“.... _ And _ ?” Sammy asks tentatively, turning to Jack for a truthful answer. Jack’s looking up at the ceiling now. Touching artifacts with bare hands before they’ve been neutralized is always a bad idea, but this hadn’t been an artifact of the sets-wildfires or turns-you-to-stone variety. There were worse things out there to touch. 

Jack mumbles something unintelligible under his breath. 

“JFK’s tie clip,” Emily says slowly, leaning back in the kitchen chair thoughtfully. “Seductive power. Jack…”

Now Emily’s got a little smirk on her face, too, which always spells bad news since she’s basically the nicest person in the world. 

Sammy, because everyone is right about how much of a softie he is, cuts in sharply, “Guys, shut up. Jack, what happened?”

“He was  _ attacked, _ ” Lily says gleefully as she keeps Ben’s head firmly locked underneath her bicep. He’s stopped struggling and started making a low whining noise, probably in hopes of annoying her into letting him go, “by a  _ horde  _ of horny straight women.”

Lily lets Ben go just in time for him to gasp out a burst of laughter, which Emily quickly follows suit though at least she covers her mouth. 

Jack looks distinctly uncomfortable, though, even though he’s smiling self-deprecatingly over at Lily as if to say  _ you win.  _ Sammy feels a spike of sympathy nonetheless, even though he’s very glad that it was just straight women and not…..well, not anyone else.

“Har de har,” Jack rolls his eyes. “Get your laughs over with, please, I’m trying to block it out.”

“He had lipstick marks all over him,” Lily says in a stage-whisper and breaks off into a loud peal of laughter. 

“Sorry, Jack,” Emily says, giggling seemingly despite herself. “It’s just - I mean, you’re already a thirst trap for middle-aged straight moms -”

“Unless you’re Cynthia!” Lily cuts in, and jabs Ben’s side in what seems like her best approximation of a tickle. Ben shrieks, jumping off of the couch. 

“Yes, it’s all very funny,” Jack says in an even voice. He doesn’t seem angry, or even annoyed - just a little worn out. “Lily’s already used all the best jokes, alright? Is my black eye not punishment enough?”

“Is there anything else hurt?” Sammy asks because no one else does. His eyes quickly rake over Jack’s body looking for any other signs of damage, but Jack seems relatively intact. He has a broken fingernail, but Jack’s always breaking fingernails. 

“Honestly,” Jack says, and leans forward to squeeze Sammy’s shoulder. His voice sounds genuine, and much less forced than it had with the others. “Everything is  _ fine.” _

“I’m sorry, Jack,” Emily says, standing up and side-stepping Sammy to lean down and kiss the top of Jack’s head. No one can reach the top of Jack’s head when he’s standing at his full height, so Sammy supposes Emily has to take advantage while she can. Not that Sammy’s ever thought about kissing the top of Jack’s head, not even once. “For laughing and for the whole experience. I made meatballs for dinner if that makes you feel better.”

“It does, actually,” Jack says, though his smile remains a little quieter than usual. “You’re the best, Em.”

“I’ll help you serve,” Ben glares daggers at Lily for half a second as she wiggles her eyebrows at him, before he springs across the room to Emily. He follows her into the kitchen like the puppy dog he is, and Sammy doesn’t miss the way Emily puts her hand on Ben’s arm and squeezes for just a second. 

“Don’t be mad,” Lily says to Jack, though it's a bit of a condescending tone. Then again, most of Lily’s tones are condescending. She probably doesn’t mean for it to be. “I’m sorry you were tackled.”

“ _ Tackled _ ?” Sammy’s a bit embarrassed at the amount of concern leaking into his voice, because of course worse things have happened to Jack on assignment. He’s a fucking CIA agent for Christ’s sake. Sammy’s a glorified librarian. But Jack’s tone is much more subdued now than talking about any of the various times he’d almost died. 

Plus, the idea of Jack being attacked by women who were magically attracted to him is causing Sammy’s heart seize up in his chest just slightly. 

“Stop freaking out,” Jack says, voice firm while still reassuring. “I just thought I was over the days of women making out with me, so it was just a  _ little  _ traumatic to have so many grabbing me for a solid twenty minutes before Lily neutralized the artifact.”

Sammy gets it. He does. Well, he’s never been tackled by a group of women who want him, and hasn’t made out with a girl since he was sixteen, but he does understand Jack’s discomfort and not finding this nearly as funny as Lily does. 

Sammy sets down the washcloth, and without considering it too much, squeezes Jack’s knee in a show of support. Jack glances down at his hand in surprise, but his smile when he meets Sammy’s eye is bright and thankful.

And also far,  _ far  _ too much to look at.

“I’m gonna get you some ice,” Sammy hastily tears his eyes awake from Jack’s to stand up. He can see Jack deflate slightly, and also Lily raise a judgmental eyebrow at him from across the room. 

It doesn’t stop him from making his exit without looking back, though, and coming into Emily’s bright, yellow-patterned kitchen, big enough for her to cook comfortably. 

The last Keeper of the Warehouse had only run the B&B out of an obligation to the agents who had to live here, but when Emily took over eight years ago, she’d been pleased to embrace the more ordinary parts of the job. She even advertises to guests who aren’t Warehouse-affiliated, so sometimes there’s a couple of ordinary citizens staying in the opposite wing. 

Emily had been quite young then, but still took to both of her jobs - the mystical and the everyday - with the same level of enthusiasm and grace. She is, in Sammy’s esteemed opinion, the best human being on the planet.

And also his oldest friend. 

“Ice?” Sammy meets her eye when he enters the room. She and Ben are standing on opposite sides of her wide counter, a large bowl between them with the pasta for tonight. Sammy knows Emily and Ben save the nicest dinners for when Sundays. 

Ben’s been helping with B&B duties since he arrived, and while part of that is just his helpful and kindhearted nature, absolutely no one could miss the fond heart eyes he made whenever Emily entered a room. Besides, he can’t cook or clean to save his life. 

“For Jack’s eye?” Emily clarifies, then points to her industrial-sized refrigerator. “Freezer is the left one, I’ll get a bag to put it in.”

“Can I help with anything?” Sammy asks, because he  _ can  _ cook and sometimes even remembers liking it. He hasn’t done it in years, though - one of the few purchases he’d made for his office was a microwave to put Hot Pockets in. 

“You can carry this out to the dining room table,” Emily hands him the other bowl on the table, which has some springy green salad in it. “I’ve got the pasta -”

“No, let me get it, Emily,” Ben says, and he carefully situates the rather large bowl in his small hands. Sammy and Emily make brief eye contact, the communication clear -  _ he’s going to trip. _

“Here, Benny, let me take that, you take the tray of meatballs,” Emily says, and Sammy doesn’t miss that how when she takes the bowl from Ben, their fingers brush and Ben’s face lights up at the two seconds of contact. 

Dinner is nice, because any dinner Emily makes is nice and she always manages to counteract Ben’s food disaster tendencies, somehow. How she does it Sammy will never understand. 

Jack seems to get happier and more relaxed, though. He eats less than he normally does, but he gets more smiley and jokey as the meal goes on, even going as far to make a few cracks at his own expense and the expense of straight moms everywhere. 

Ben spends about ten minutes monologuing about how Jack’s black eye still had resulted from a heroic sacrifice and Jack remains his hero for all time. That gets Jack to start shoving Ben and ruffling his hair, because no one can resist Ben’s charms for long. Especially when he’s so clearly trying to get Jack to laugh. 

Sammy sits next to Jack, like he normally does on Sunday nights, and they make plenty of jokes and share plenty of smiles, and Sammy thinks that maybe just maybe Jack’s forgotten about the stupid shit Sammy said before he sent them off. Or if not forgotten, at least forgiven.

That’s good. That’s one less thing for Sammy to lose sleep over.

Now he can devote all of his time to worry about what he’s going to tell the Regents about the Caretaker position.

Sitting here in a room with people Sammy cares about, people who he would miss desperately if they were gone, the choice should be obvious, shouldn’t it? 

But then again, the Warehouse had been the first thing in his life that had ever been there for him. The first home he ever knew, the first place he belonged. Didn’t he owe it more than he owed anyone else? And even if he became the Caretaker, it wouldn’t change every single thing immediately. He’d still get Sunday night dinners with his friends.

Wouldn’t he?

* * *

Jack offers to drive Sammy back to the Warehouse at the end of the night, as per usual. Lily goes upstairs to call Not Her Girlfriend Helena, and Ben and Emily start doing their awkward flirting dance, and Jack asks Sammy if he’s ready to go. 

They only get as far as the main road of Univille before Jack sighs like he’s going to say something important. 

Jesus. There’s nowhere to run in a car. Is Sammy going to have to throw himself out of a moving vehicle tonight? He hopes not. 

“So,” Jack says, voice taking on a self-deprecating tone, and Sammy doesn’t miss the way his hands tighten on the steering wheel. “When I was gone, I sort of - well, I came up with this plan. Since we fought, I wanted to do something - I don’t know, nice for you. I was going to surprise you, but I know you hate surprises.”

“They’re not a favorite,” Sammy acknowledges, heart beating faster in his chest all of a sudden. “You don’t have to do anything for me, though, Jack. I was the one who was being shitty for no reason.”

“I mean - well, it’s not a nice thing so far as a  _ I’m going to clean the reference section  _ nice and more of a, well,” Jack winces, tilting his head slightly away from Sammy as if bracing for impact. “Would you possibly let me kidnap you from the Warehouse for tonight and go do something fun with me?”

Sammy stares. He doesn’t mean to. This is absolutely the most in-character thing for Jack, and he’s not at all shocked by it. Still, it’s hard to come up with a response. 

“I can tell Ben to drive up and check on Lucille Ball, if you’re worried about that,” Jack adds in hastily. “I just want to make sure everything’s good between us, and I thought maybe ...maybe you lashed out at me because you were stressed, and could do with a night away. Let me know if I’m overstepping here. I know you don’t like going places, or doing things, especially when they’re not planned.”

Jack’s of the opposite persuasion, Sammy knows. He loves spontaneity and random last-minute plans, and unexpected adventures. It’s what makes him a great agent in the field, and what would make Sammy a piss-poor one. It's a wonder that Jack can even stand him, sometimes. Sammy can't change on the fly. 

This is a little different, though. It’s just a night with Jack. Doing…..something. 

“This is meant as an apology,” Jack gets a little more subdued. “I guess you might not see it that way. Sorry, it was stupid, I just -”

“No,” Sammy says, realizing suddenly that Jack isn’t his cat and therefore cannot read his mind. “No, Jack, that would be ...that would be nice. We do have the tie clip, though, and I don’t really want to leave it in the car -”

“We can stop at the Warehouse first,” Jack says quickly. “Although - maybe just let me go in? I’m a little scared that once you get inside you won’t want to leave.”

Sammy smiles because it’s probably true, but he can’t help but notice the way Jack’s voice dips at the end, going from teasing to a quality that’s almost sad. 

Jack pulls up next to the Warehouse, still lit up by the summer sun. Sammy forgets how late the sun stays out in July. The months pass differently for him when he spends so much time in a basement with no windows. 

“So where are we going?” Sammy asks when Jack gets back in the car five minutes later. “The storied nightlife of Univille?”

Jack laughs at the joke, but he’s still looking a little more melancholy than usual. “I was actually thinking something a little…..more. Somewhere in the Hills?”

“Oh,” Sammy says, stomach flip-flopping a bit. “Sure. That’ll be at least an hour’s drive, though.”

“It’s early,” Jack says, gesturing at the clock on the car. It’s not even half past six, they ate early since Jack and Lily’s flight got in at four. “I don’t know where all you’ve been in the Hills, but you’ve lived here longer than I have, so - do you have a favorite place?”

“I used to have more of a life,” Sammy admits to him, then feels a quick rush of guilt at what Jack might misconstrue from that comment. “It’s been awhile, though. Did you have an idea?”

“I thought -” Jack looks out the window at not at Sammy. “Lily and I went to Sylvan Lake a few weeks ago, on a night off. She was meeting someone girl from Tinder, actually, so I just walked around on my own. It’s really pretty. We’ll get there before sunset, so I bet it’ll be even prettier - and I think you probably haven’t seen a sunset recently.”

“Not recently,” Sammy’s mouth twists in a frown, though he feels too hot for his skin. Sammy used to walk around lakes for fun, a long time ago. “But I’ve been to Sylvan Lake, and - and you’re right. It’s really pretty. We should go.”

Jack smiles at him, sudden and blinding, and Sammy’s sure any of his discomfort is worth it if it means that Jack’s pleased. 

They’re quiet for a few minutes, the radio playing a song Sammy doesn’t recognize with a poppy beat that must be new. It only takes a few minutes to get to the other side of Univille and for Jack to pull onto the interstate. 

“I used to think that there was nothing to do in South Dakota,” Jack says, grinning, voice light. “But I’ve been here three years and I feel like I’ve barely seen half of the Hills. Ben and I have a new deal where he’s gonna take me to a new place I haven’t been every couple of weeks. You can always come with us, if you want.”

He sounds like he already knows Sammy’s answer, but there’s a level of hope to his voice that Sammy doesn’t think he’s making up. 

“Maybe sometimes,” Sammy says, voice soft, and he knows Jack’s smiling at him even though he stares out the opposite window to avoid having to see it. “I’m sure Ben knows all the best places.”

Ben’s from the area originally, unlike the rest of their group of Midwestern implants. Sammy had been afraid of South Dakota when he first arrived, hadn’t wanted to live here - he thought for sure he’d be the victim of a hate crime. 

It hadn’t been so bad, though. A little limiting, sure, compared to Washington DC, and certainly not an easy place to meet people. But no one had ever really noticed anything amiss with Sammy, no one had asked. Emily's the only one who he's ever told, but he assumes Jack, Lily, and Ben all know perfectly well, and he's fine with that. 

When he recruited Jack and Lily, Lily hadn’t been happy with her new residence. She got to leave often enough that she’d adjusted, though, and Sammy knows she has a hidden fondness for Univille that she’d never admit.

Jack had been, as always, completely adaptable to anything. Jack has vibes about things, but Sammy privately thinks he might have another power - some kind of camouflage that allows him to fit in wherever he goes. 

“Ben’s got a long list, but we’re hitting all the apparently haunted places first,” Jack says, smiling a little ruefully like he knows how predictable they are. “He’s not a big outdoorsy guy, though, so I thought this might be nice to do with you.”

Sammy meets his eye, and resolves that he’s going to hold Jack’s gaze even if it kills him. 

It’s a little more than an hour to get to Sylvan, and the last twenty minutes are a winding road up into the mountains. They have to enter Custer State Park to get to the lake, and Sammy’s a little surprised to find that Jack has a State Parks sticker on his car so they get in for free. 

Sammy used to have one of those, back when he had a car. He wonders what ever happened to the Saturn. He told Emily to sell it for supplies at the B&B. Too many bad memories associated with it, and he’d never gotten around to buying another one.

Sylvan is busy, because it’s mid-July, and the holiday crowds are still around. Univille isn’t a hot spot for tourists, so the crowds aren’t a usual part of Sammy’s purview. They don’t stop the lake from being stunning, though, with the evergreens framing it from all sides, gigantic rock formations on the opposite bank that kids and adults alike are climbing on. 

The setting sun reflects on the top of the lake, casting the area with a soft glow. Sammy feels something tight in his chest that’s familiar, but hasn’t been there for a long time. 

“Sorry about the crowd,” Jack says as he parks, shaking his head in frustration at how far away the car is from the lake itself. 

“I’m pretty sure you can’t control tourist season,” Sammy tells him, keeping his voice light even though he hasn’t seen this many people at one time in God knows how long. “C’mon, it’ll be fun.”

He says it trying to convince himself as much as Jack, but Sammy finds he isn’t all that worried as the two of them walk through the parking lot to get to the gravel trail around the lake. Sammy doesn’t like people all that much, but there’s plenty of kids and dogs there too, and Sammy likes both of them just fine. 

Besides, Jack’s here, and Sammy finds himself walking very close to him, maybe out of a need to cling onto something familiar, maybe out Sammy’s usual desire to be close to Jack that he suppresses. 

It makes sense here, walking so close to Jack. And as shallow as it makes Sammy feel to admit, he likes that Jack’s so tall and broad. Not just for the obvious reasons, but also because it makes Sammy feel a little safer than he would if he were here with, say, Ben, the tiniest boy alive. 

Sammy looks up at Jack a few times. Jack seems to relax the closer they get to the water, his face losing its lines and tension. He’s getting a few stray looks from strangers because of his black eye, but somehow, unfairly, he still looks handsome. 

He shouldn’t get to look handsome with a black eye, in Sammy’s opinion. That’s deeply unfair. 

Just like how unfair it is that Sammy’s too afraid to take Jack’s hand in his own, even though he thinks they’d both like it. 

If he was just afraid of the tourists, he could make his peace with that, take Jack’s hand in the car on the way home to thank him for taking him outside for a change. But it’s not, and never has been, just that.

Sammy’s mostly afraid of himself. 

“I used to come to Custer State Park on my days off,” Sammy tells Jack because the words come naturally to him. Jack is clearly startled, though, if his widened brown eyes and slightly gaping mouth are anything to go by. Jack quickly schools his expression into one of pleased wonder, though. “There’s a lot of nice hiking trails here.”

“You used to have days off?” Jack’s voice is teasing, but incredibly soft. Sammy can’t help his blush, but he steps even closer to Jack. Their feet are practically touching now as they walk around the perimeter of the lake. There are so many families here in all generations - kids, parents, grandparents.

Sammy had given up on being a kid with parents who loved him when he was sixteen. He thought he’d given up on being a parent or grandparent, too, but he can feel his heartstrings getting tugged at. 

Family. Even though Sammy has more of one than he ever thought he would, he might never have one like this. 

And he definitely won’t have one like this if he becomes the Caretaker. It’s not that he couldn’t have mortal connections - but they would always have to come in second to the Warehouse, and they would be fleeting compared to his too-long life. 

Sammy’s not even sure if he’ll be able to keep the family he has now. Emily would forgive him, but she might be the only one. 

“I haven’t been an old recluse forever,” Sammy tells Jack, because he doesn’t know how to articulate anything else going through his head. “I was young once.”

“Jesus,” Jack rolls his eyes, but his grin gives him away. “You’d think you were sixty. Newsflash, if you’re old, than so am I. So’s Lily. Maybe Emily. Definitely not Ben, though.”

“Ben’s far too young,” Sammy nods, because it’s the one thing everyone but Ben agrees on. Ben sulks about being the baby of the family, but he’s the only one who knows what a meme is and therefore deserves any ribbing that he gets. 

“You should go hiking again,” Jack says, though his voice isn’t quite as sure now. “I’d go with you. So would Ben, though he’d complain the whole time.”

Sammy almost says that he will, because being out here, with the setting sun and warm summer breeze and laughing children makes him miss the world. Still, his usual defense mechanisms kick in and he mutters, “I’ve got Warehouse aisles to hike through.”

Jack’s expression noticeably gets tenser, and Sammy quickly adds “Besides, I don’t think Lucille Ball would take as well to a leash than all these dogs.”

“That’s because she’s very nearly human,” Jack points out, and he nudges his hip against Sammy’s, just for a second, blink at you miss it. “She’s too much like you.”

“You and Ben been talking about all of the striking similarities between me and my cat?” Sammy can’t pretend to be grumpy about it, not with as nice as tonight is. 

“Hey, when I caught you sleeping, you sounded more like you were purring than snoring!”

Sammy would be embarrassed if not for the affectionate look on Jack’s face like nothing delights him more, and not in a way that means he takes joy in Sammy’s embarrassment like Lily takes joy in Jack’s. It’s almost as if Jack likes it, or thinks it’s cute. 

Sammy shouldn’t make that assumption, but - 

“C’mon, let’s go to the top of the rock,” Jack tugs on Sammy’s jacket sleeve as they round the lake’s corner. There’s a mini-trail that leads upward to the two gigantic rock formations that frame the lake. There are mostly kids at the top, though Sammy can see a photographer as well, along with two couples sitting together. 

“Slow down,” Sammy feels the need to call after Jack when he bounds ahead in a burst of energy. He slows a bit, but not quite enough for Sammy to fully catch up. Jack has much longer legs than he does. 

“C’mon, it’s nice up here!” Jack calls to Sammy when he makes it to the top, and Sammy can’t quite look at him, he’s so bright. Lit up by the setting sun like he’s some sort of hero on the cover of a romance novel, or maybe an angel in mortal form. 

But Jack's also standing at the top of a huge rock with nothing but a few feet separating him from the edge of the ground, the water at least a two hundred foot drop. Sammy’s sure he would survive if he fell, cliff-jumping is common here, but Sammy is a worrier at heart. 

“Be careful, please,” Sammy feels better the second he’s within arm’s length of Jack. It’s not too windy tonight, but he still feels as if a gust of wind could knock Jack away. He’s less worried about Jack than he would be about Ben in this same situation, but he equally can’t lose either of them. 

Not yet, anyway. 

“You okay?” Jack asks, and reaches an arm out as if he’s about to touch Sammy, but lets it fall back to his side without contact. “It’s only twenty minutes until sunset - I thought we could sit up here to watch.”

“Okay,” Sammy manages to nod. He’s not actually afraid of heights, he’ll be fine, and he especially feels better when Jack pulls him down with him to sit. It’s not overly comfortable, what with nothing to lean against, but he’s next to Jack. 

Some kids run past them, and Sammy feels another spike of worry, wondering where their parents are. He’s sure they’re watching, but it still scares him. 

Mortality in general scares him. How easy it is for their to be an accident, for someone to make a mistake. For no one to make a mistake and for something horrible to happen anyway. 

Sammy couldn’t change any of that, as the Caretaker. Accidents and mistakes would still happen. Merv hadn’t been able to stop it when - 

“I love sunset,” Jack, thank God, cuts Sammy’s thoughts off from going anywhere worse. “It’s my favorite time of day. Sometimes I’ll just go sit on the back porch of the B&B with my book and watch. Emily’s the only one who ever comes and joins me - Lily and Ben don’t have the patience for sunset.”

“Ben’s got video games instead,” Sammy acknowledges with a small laugh, “and Lily’s got ...I don’t know. Masturbation?”

Jack wrinkles his nose in disgust and shoves Sammy’s shoulder. Sammy laughs because he can’t help it. “Don’t say that about my sister! Especially since it’s probably true!”

“How did her Tinder date here go?” Sammy asks, gesturing around the lake. Jack makes a noncommittal noise. 

“I don’t think they had sex in the woods, if that’s what you’re insinuating. And I doubt Lily saw her again, either. She really likes Helena, even though she’d be the last to admit it.”

It’s quiet for a moment before Jack says “I downloaded Tinder once. Talked myself out of it before I ever messaged anyone, though.”

The lightness between them doesn’t go away, but Sammy recognizes the thrum of tension that goes through both of them as Jack takes them to a less comfortable subject. He feels jealous, of course he does, but that’s overtaken mostly by guilt and sadness. Because if Sammy was a different, better person, Jack wouldn’t have had the need for a dating app.

“It’s just hard,” Jack says suddenly before Sammy can think of something to say that doesn’t make him sound like the absolute worst. “Knowing that I can’t tell them what I really do, how important it is. I understand the Warehouse’s policy - but I almost wish I could never tell anyone, rather than just one person. It’s so much pressure - knowing that once I tell one person, I’ve lost my chance to tell anyone else.”

Sammy’s mouth goes dry. He never asks about this, not only because it’s so personal, but because someone might ask the same question of him in return. Sammy’s good at obscuring the truth, but he’s an awful liar. Someone would be able to figure it out. 

“You don’t have a One yet, then?” Sammy asks quietly, and Jack shakes his head. 

“Lily would’ve been my One, if it had just been me who’d gotten recruited,” Jack explains, and Sammy knows without a shadow of a doubt that that’s the case. “And I would’ve been hers. We’ve talked about it. But neither of us are close to our parents, we both have bad luck in love - so we’re both waiting. Not sure what for yet.”

Sammy wishes he could offer up some sort of reassurance, but that’s the most impossible thing for him to do. 

Because of all of Sammy’s mistakes he’s ever made - and there’s been a shitload of them - this is the one that Sammy can’t talk about, can’t even think about. 

“Hey, you’ve got a long future ahead of you,” Sammy keeps his voice purposefully upbeat. “Only being able to tell one person - it sucks. But you have plenty of time to figure out who it’ll be.”

“I know that intellectually,” Jack admits, shaking his head. “I guess I’ll just have to save it for whatever the future’s holding for me. Five years ago, I could never have imagined I’d be here, so who knows what comes next?”

Jack sounds positive, even upbeat, even though he’s still frowning. 

All Sammy feels is more guilt. Sammy’s not an arrogant person, but he knows that whatever choice he makes about his job offer is going to change the path of Jack’s life, maybe more so than anyone else’s. 

Jack likes him. Sammy knows this. He’s pretty sure everyone else does, too. He’s not sure if they know how much he likes Jack, too. 

Sammy doesn’t have enough of an ego to think that just because he turns down the Regents, it means that he and Jack will be together. Sammy still has so much baggage that he doesn’t want to weigh Jack down with, and even though Jack likes him now, Sammy’s sure he wouldn’t like him forever. 

But in the world where Sammy stays mortal, there’s a possibility for him and Jack. If Sammy becomes the Caretaker, he won’t put Jack through that. 

That alone is enough for Sammy to say fuck the Regents and their stupid fucking offer, but then Sammy always remembers that he’s proven he can’t be trusted with romance, not even the possibility of it. 

The possibility feels close tonight, though. A future with Jack is a future of surprise adventures, hiking trails, watching the sunset at the B&B. 

Sammy can almost imagine it.

He shifts closer to Jack, and it would be so easy to discreetly put his hand on top of Jack’s own and squeeze -

And then out of the corner of his eye, standing at the lake’s edge just beneath them, Sammy sees Herschel Baumgardner. 

Sammy’s adrenaline shoots up, his heart pounding loud enough that he can hear it banging in his ears, all too uncomfortably aware of how his body is pumping blood through his veins. Panic spikes through system, and doesn’t stop - 

Until Sammy sees that it’s not Herschel Baumgardner at all. It’s an old man, with Herschel’s white cropped hair and stout build, and he’s got a fishing pole like the one Sammy saw Herschel use for years. 

Sammy’s still finding it difficult to catch his breath, and that’s when he feels Jack’s arm around his shoulder.

“Hey, hey, are you alright? What’s the matter?”

Sammy forces himself to breathe in deeper, and turns back to Jack, whose hazel eyes are blown wide with worry. He rubs Sammy’s shoulder in a comforting circle, and Sammy sees a couple of kids on the rockface in front of them glance over with concern. 

“Are you okay?” Jack asks, and he sounds almost as panicked as Sammy. 

“Yeah,” Sammy manages to get out, even though he can’t swallow. “Just - I’m sorry - I just -”

“Do you want to go?” Jack asks, and he doesn’t sound angry. Only distressed. 

Sammy makes himself nod, and Jack helps him up to his feet though he lets go of Sammy’s hand when they’re both standing. He hovers in Sammy’s space as they walk back to the trail, though.

Sammy casts the fisherman another look when they get down - definitely not Herschel. The man’s here with a golden retriever and what looks like a young grandson who’s asking about if the fish are biting tonight. 

They move quickly and quietly back across the lake and through the long expanse of parking lot, Jack with a hand constantly inches from Sammy’s shoulder, seemingly just in case something happens. 

“I’m so sorry,” Jack turns to Sammy as soon as they’re in the car. “I know you have a lot of anxiety, I shouldn’t have brought you to such a crowded place -”

“Jack, it’s not that,” Sammy interrupts, even though that would be a convenient excuse for his ill-timed panic attack. He can’t deny his anxiety, because it’s very true, but it’s also not quite what happened. “I just - it’s been a long time since I did anything like that. But it wasn’t your fault. It was really nice, actually. I’m glad we came, and I’m sorry I fucked it up.”

“You didn’t fuck anything up,” Jack says, nearly fervent in its intensity. “I’m sorry that I’m so pushy."

“Jack, I think literally anyone else would’ve screamed at me by now for being so unwilling to step a single toe outside of my comfort zone,” Sammy says, completely honest. “Lily does it at least once a month. But you and Ben and Emily are extremely patient with me for no reason -”

“Of course there’s a reason, we care about you, we want you to feel safe -”

“I felt safe,” Sammy tells him, and takes a deep breath before he says, “ _ You  _ make me feel safe. Alright? I just - I just don’t know how to deal, sometimes, with being a person.”

It’s true. It’s not why Sammy panicked tonight, but it’s completely true - and also why he thinks maybe he could be a good Caretaker, despite it all. Because the Caretaker is part human - but not entirely. They’re not expected to be good at existing. 

“I’m sorry anyway,” Jack says, and Sammy hates how guilty he sounds. “This was meant to be fun.”

“It was fun,” Sammy says, a little forceful because he doesn’t ever want Jack to think tonight was a mistake or that Sammy wishes he were the kind of person who could have a night like this every night. “We should do it again. Really, we should. I want to.”

Jack looks suspicious with his raised eyebrows, but he nods all the same as he pulls out of the parking space and back out into the state park. Sammy purposefully engages Jack in some light conversation about the roads and traffic, and Jack eventually seems to relax a little. Or at least not look like he’s about to implode with guilt. 

They drive through Ben’s hometown and make a few joking comments about him, because that’s easy, but Jack gets an odd, pensive look on his face when they pass a building just outside of town. He slows down at first, but then seems to change his mind and speed up to go past it and the upcoming gas station. 

“What?” Sammy looks back, trying to see the sign but they’re too far away now. “What was that place?” 

“It’s nothing,” Jack says, then bites his lip. “I thought it’d be nice - but not tonight, we should get home -”

“Jack,” Sammy prods, feeling more guilt of his own. Jesus, they’re a fucking pair tonight. 

“It’s a winery,” Jack admits, seeming a little embarrassed if his eyes cast at the ceiling are anything to go by. “Ben told me about it. It’s supposed to be really nice, they do a free tasting ad there’s a restaurant - I thought it could be fun, but - but it’s fine, it’s dumb. Some other time. Or I’ll go with Lily.”

“I - ” Sammy is suddenly all too aware that this feels like a date. It’s been so long that Sammy’s forgotten what dates are meant to feel like, but this is definitely it. He doesn’t think it’s quite how Jack meant tonight to be, but - 

But this is slightly askew date that Sammy’s somehow gotten wrong without even realizing. 

He clears his throat a couple of times. He wants to tell Jack to turn around, or that they should come back next week, or just that they can do it some other time in general, because he wants to, he so badly wants to be on a date with Jack, now and always - 

“Okay,” Sammy says instead, and he’s quiet for the rest of the trip home.

* * *

Sammy sleeps fitfully that night, and though he wakes up many times, he keeps having the same dream over and over again.

He’s in his office in the Warehouse. Jack’s sitting across from him, in his well-worn high school wrestling sweatshirt, leaning forward.

This conversation had happened in reality, three years ago. It was one of the first times he and Jack had talked, really talked. A month or so after Jack and Lily first became permanent Warehouse team members. 

_ I have these...vibes _ , Jack tells him, frowning.  _ I don’t know what you’d call them. Intuition? Premonition? Sometimes I can tell what’s going to happen before it does, or - if someone’s in some kind of trouble. _

_ I know,  _ Sammy says.  _ It’s part of why you’re here, why you were chosen. You have talents no one else does.  _

_ Thanks,  _ Jack chuckles.  _ That’s not why I brought it up, though.  _

_ Then why? _

Jack’s expression gets more intent, his eyebrows knitting together as he frowns. He leans forward, elbows on his knees. Sammy is suddenly, unaccountably nervous.

_ I can tell what people are feeling,  _ Jack says, slow like he’s afraid of spooking him. Sammy feels the need to bolt from the room as fast as he can, but something holds him in place.  _ And I just wanted to let you know - I’m sorry for whatever’s hurting you. I don’t know if you know - but it’s like you’re screaming, every time I see you. Screaming for help because you’re drowning. _

Jack puts his hand on Sammy’s shoulder. Sammy can’t move.  _ I know we just met. But I need you to know that I’m here for you, that I can help you. Just tell me how, and I will.  _

Sammy’s about to answer, about to thank Jack but tell him he’s fine, he’s handling things - 

But then the scene switches with no warning, and Jack’s face twists, and he laughs. Not in a way that Jack has ever sounded - the laugh is chilling and cruel, and then Jack’s face isn’t Jack’s anymore.

It’s a face that Sammy’s desperately tried to forget, but one that will follow him forever - mainly because it will be here in the Warehouse for all eternity, in the chamber Sammy never goes in if he can help. 

Sammy might live forever - but Micah will be encased in bronze, a living statue stored in the back of the Warehouse, for just as long. 

_ It’s not Jack, it’s not Jack, it’s not Jack,  _ Sammy says to himself over and over again. _Micah's _ _ gone. He’s gone and he can’t come back. It’s a bad dream, it’s a bad dream.  _

He wakes up gasping, with Lucille Ball meowing loudly as she paws at his hair, claws getting tangled up. 

_ Scary,  _ Lucille Ball tells him, her meow nearly a whimper, and Sammy scoops her up in his arms to hold her close, to comfort himself as much as it is to comfort her. 

His broom closet of a bedroom is too dark, so Sammy switches on his lamp. Lucille’s practically shaking, and Sammy apologizes over and over.

_ Daddy’s nice,  _ Lucille Ball says suddenly with feeling, and Sammy frowns down at her, not sure why she’s telling him that he’s nice when he’s right here.  _ He gives me treats. He’s not like that.  _

Oh. She’s talking about Jack.

_ You’re right,  _ Sammy strokes her as they both shudder together.  _ He’s not like that.  _

Sammy’s always known that. Jack is, unequivocally, a wonderful person who deserves the absolute best from the world. He’s always been there for Sammy, from before they even became friends, let alone whatever unnameable thing they are now. 

That’s never been able to help Sammy’s fears, though - and not just that Sammy will choose the wrong person to trust again.

But that he’s going to make a decision that ends up with someone he loves hurt or dead or worse because of his bad calls. And he can’t have that person be Jack. 


	3. Three

“I’m sorry - what? You’re - you’re gonna let me _go along on a mission _?”

“Non-combative,” Sammy tells Ben, trying to keep the sternness in his voice even as Ben’s mouth drops in disbelief. “You’re there as a shadow only, to watch Jack and Lily. It’s the easiest and closest artifact I could find. It’s a four and a half hour drive to Casper, and the cowboy hat has non-lethal powers. It just makes you sing country music.”

Ben’s face is torn between blinding excitement and confusion. The confusion is warranted, since Sammy’s never let Ben go out in the field before. 

Sammy is not in charge of the Warehouse team. This has always been very true. Basically the only direct order Sammy’s ever given is _ Ben, stay with me, _and even though Ben sometimes begs to be sent into the field to collect an artifact, he’s also usually content to listen. 

Sammy worries about Jack and Lily, but they’re ex-CIA agents with a rigorous background and training in any range of combat situations. None of the training was magical, but it’s enough that Sammy doesn’t have anything more than low-level worry for them on their ordinary missions. 

Ben, though, is twenty-five years old, a computer science major who moved to Emily’s B&B from his mom’s house while he was still in college. His adult life has taken place mostly within Sammy’s direct line of sight.

Sammy worries for Ben's safety when he sends him to pick up _ lunch _. 

“You’ll be back by tomorrow,” Sammy tells him, standing up to walk around his desk to pat Ben’s shoulder a couple of times, just in case Ben’s nervous. Sammy really can’t tell, Ben’s eyes are just glassy with shock. “Jack’s gonna take good care of you. And will stop Lily when she tries to make you do something dangerous.”

Lily must’ve been waiting to hear her name, because the door that leads down the Warehouse stairs opens half a second later and she strides in with a shit-eating grin on her face. Jack trails behind her, giving Ben and Sammy and sheepish look that said they were absolutely listening at the door. 

“Stevens is finally letting his baby bird fly from the nest!” Lily fakes a sob into her hand before turning to beam at Ben. “C’mon, partner. Saddle up. We’re heading to Wyoming. You get to pick none of the music for the drive.”

“Should I -” Ben still looks dazed, but he’s starting to smile. “Should I pack a bag? I don’t - I’ve never - can I call my Mom and tell her first?”

Ben chose his One person to know about the Warehouse within months of starting here, Sammy knows partly because his mom is the only family Ben has, but also probably because Ben met Emily and decided there would be no one else for him in the future after her. 

“Dad’s already gonna worry enough, no need to drag Mom into it,” Lily leans across Ben’s desk to punch Sammy’s shoulder. He rubs it pointedly.

Back when Ben first joined the Warehouse team, Jack and Lily used to tease him by asking how he and his newly adopted son were getting along. Sammy would flip them off every time, but unfortunately they sort of had a point. 

Lily leans over to sling her arm around Ben’s shoulder and squeeze for a second “Arnold, we’re going to have a _ grand _adventure together. I might even let you shoot my gun.”

“_No_,” Sammy intellectually knows it’s a joke meant to rile him up, but he still can’t suppress the urge to put a stop to that train of thought. “Ben’s going to _ watch. _That’s it! Like a - like a job shadow! Just so he can see how it’s done!”

“Does that mean you’ll let me go again?” Ben asks, looking up at Sammy with an almost delighted expression.

Sammy sighs. “Yes. On _occasion. _”

“We’ll make sure it’s an easy time,” Jack says, smiling down at Ben. Sammy knows Jack will take his duty of care seriously. 

“I can’t believe I’m gonna see you in the field!” Ben beams, springing up to side-step Sammy and Lily and to hug Jack from the side. Sammy knows he likes doing that because he fits entirely under Jack’s arm. “I mean, I’ve seen you in Warehouse emergencies and all that, but I’m usually too busy fearing for my life to appreciate how cool you are.”

“Jesus, I forgot you’re Jack’s number one fan,” Lily rolls her eyes, but her tone doesn’t stop its excitement. She might disguise it with teasing, but Sammy knows Lily’s pleased that Ben’s coming with them. To bully him if nothing else, but it’s a fond sort of bullying. “This is gonna be sickening.”

“Don’t engage with anyone unless Jack tells you to,” Sammy says, because this was supposed to be his instructional time. “Always stay behind them, especially if a fight breaks out. Don’t use any weapons. Call me at least once every few hours so I know you’re okay. Always be with either Jack or Lily -”

“You’re the most boring old man alive,” Lily interrupts, which is rather unfair because she’s actually older than he is by eight months. “None of the dastardly villains we face will even be able to see you if you hide behind Jack the whole time. Let’s _go _.”

“I - okay,” Ben stands slowly, a nervous energy to him. He seems as if he’s about to follow Lily toward the door, but then turns back to Sammy quickly, as if he’d almost forgotten something. “Are you gonna be okay here alone? I can stay. I _should _stay, if you’re just gonna be with Lucy and no one else is here -”

“Ben,” Sammy says, placing what he thinks is a soothing hand on Ben’s arm. “I’m _fine. _I used to spend days alone when Jack and Lily were on assignment back before you were here. I can do it again.”

Sammy’s slightly uncomfortable as he realizes that he’d said, essentially, a much bitchier version of that to Jack days ago. He’s sure Jack’s aware of it, too.

His tone, thankfully, had been reassuring this time, and Ben’s smile comes back tentatively. Not quite mega-watt yet, but Sammy knows he’ll get there. 

“We’ll take care of him, I promise,” Jack interrupts, an intent look on his face, looking more at Sammy than Ben. “Even Lily.”

Lily mumbles something about taking her job seriously, and while Sammy’s focus is on her, Ben manages to catch him off-guard as he plows into Sammy’s chest with a hug. 

“I’ll be back really soon,” Ben says into Sammy’s next, as Sammy awkwardly hooks his arms around Ben’s neck to hug him back. Ben is without a doubt the most tactile person Sammy knows, and the first person to just ignore Sammy’s physical boundaries as a way of getting around them. 

It had worked, obviously. 

“Call me if you need me,” Sammy’s embarrassed that he’s nearly choked up, but he hides his face in Ben’s head so Lily can’t rib him for it. 

The four of them discuss the details of the plan for another few minutes, and Ben nods rapidly along with everything they’re saying, clearly trying to memorize it. 

Lily finally pulls Ben toward the door, Jack already outside starting the car, and Sammy thinks he’s alone with the Warehouse and his thoughts, which had been the whole purpose in getting Ben away for a day, anyway. He needed time to think without being blinded by his brotherly bond with Ben. 

But then Ben bounds back in by himself, a look of nearly fear in his eyes. Sammy glances back up at him, honestly a little startled. 

“Are you _sure _you’re gonna be okay without me?”

Sammy hates when his life gets metaphorical. Suddenly his answer feels important, and he hesitates as Ben blinks down at him in concern. 

“I can always call you if I’m not,” Sammy lifts his iPhone off of his desk to wave it at Ben, and Ben’s shoulders immediately relax as he smiles. 

Ben would be the one person, Sammy knows, who wouldn’t pretend to be happy for him if he took the Caretaker position. The others might never forgive him, but they would act like everything was okay. 

Ben’s never been able to fake how he’s feeling, though. Ben just _feels_. Plus, he has no filter whatsoever. He has a short temper, even with people he loves. 

Ben would sob and scream and cry and make Sammy change his mind. He’d be so crushed. Sammy can’t hurt Ben, what’s he thinking? 

Ben doesn’t scare Sammy in the way that Jack does. It’s nothing against Jack - it’s just that Sammy and romance have a particularly strained relationship, and that’s what he’d want from Jack in an ideal world. With Ben, Sammy let himself care a lot quicker. It doesn’t hurt that there’s an innocence to Ben that Sammy’s never seen in anyone else he’s met - this hope and optimism that Sammy wishes they all had a little more of, especially him. 

That tends to make Sammy worry more about Ben, though. Because he’s susceptible and vulnerable and what if Sammy gets him in a situation that he can’t get out of?

If Sammy were Caretaker, he could take care of his friends better, make sure they got to live long, happy lives. Not as long as his, but much happier. And maybe their lives would be better if he was a more distant part of them. 

Sammy sighs, putting his hand in his hands. He’d wanted to be alone with the Warehouse, and he got what he wanted, but now his head hurts and he’s tired and he doesn’t want to think about anything. Especially the Regents’ offer. 

* * *

Emily always knows when Sammy needs her. He tells her it’s one of her superpowers.

_ I don’t have those, silly, _Emily would ruffle his hair, even though they both knew that she did. Not accessible superpowers like Merv, but something mystical that lived in her subconscious and let her connect to the Warehouse the way no one else could. 

Back when Sammy lived in the B&B, he would make dinner with Emily every single night. They’d chase each other around the kitchen and she’d smear his face with flour and he’d laugh for hours. 

Cecil would always thank them for the meal profusely, saying how much he loved their youthful energy. 

Herschel would grumble under his breath something about Sammy being soft, but Emily would point out every time that Herschel was smiling when Sammy wasn’t looking. 

Back when Sammy first moved into the Warehouse, Emily begged him to come back home every time she saw him. 

She still asks, sometimes, but Sammy thinks she might be giving up on him. 

Emily rarely comes to the Warehouse herself - she’s a failsafe in case the information housed inside is lost, so when she comes she never stays for long - but about an hour after Ben, Jack, and Lily leave for Wyoming, she appears at his shoulder suddenly and without warning. 

“Jesus, you scared me!” Sammy bolts upward, heart racing. He’d been focusing so intently on his file about Doc Holliday’s Cowboy Hat and its various dangers that he hadn’t even heard the door open. 

“Sorry,” Emily giggles as she pulls Ben’s chair toward Sammy’s desk to sit opposite him. Her long brown hair is tied back in a plait today, and she’s wearing a yellow sundress that would probably make Ben, and Lily honestly, stare all day. 

Sammy just thinks she looks rather pretty, and tells her so. She smiles at him like she knows he’s deflecting and the conversation hasn’t even started.

“Not that I’m not thrilled to see you - I’m always thrilled to see you - but to what do I owe the pleasure of your company?” 

“Oh, cut the bullshit,” Emily’s tone remains light and cheerful despite the harsh words. “Benny called me from the car saying that he thinks you’re sending him away so you can be emo and listen to My Chemical Romance in peace.”

“I’m more of a Kurt Cobain type,” Sammy mumbles under his breath, but he can’t escape Emily’s sympathetic eyes, full of exasperated affection. 

“He’s worried about you. He says you’ve been distant lately. More distant than usual, I mean.”

“And how would you know that?” Sammy never stops trying to deflect, apparently, but Emily just shakes her head. 

“Don’t tease me about Ben, I know all of your jokes already,” Emily says, voice not losing any fondness. Emily’s the master of killing Sammy with kindness. “You can leave me a voicemail with whatever new pun you’ve thought of with the word cougar in it.”

There’s not much to make fun of Emily for, with her being practically perfect and all. So everyone has taken distinct advantage of the fact that Ben’s five years her junior. Emily only ever responds with a sunny smile - unless Ben’s in the room, because he gets embarrassed. Then she’ll chew them all out. 

“I have a theory,” Emily announces, and oh no, if anyone could figure this out, it’s certainly Emily. Not only is she keenly in tune with her emotional intelligence, unlike the other four Warehouse employees, but she also has her own relationship with the Regents.

Sammy doesn’t answer, figuring it’s permission enough for Emily to keep going. And she does. 

“You had a meeting with Grisham and Cynthia,” Emily says, lowering her voice sympathetically, “and they asked you to do something you don’t want to do. I don’t know what they could have asked of you, but - am I close?”

Dammit. Emily’s too intuitive sometimes. 

“Not quite,” Sammy clears his throat, unexpectedly emotional. She seems to realize this, and reaches across his desk to squeeze his hand. “Can I ask you something?”

“Anything.”

Sammy hesitates. “What was it like when you became the Keeper?”

Emily stares at him for a moment. Sammy wonders if she’s figured it out. He can’t tell, as her expression only melds into a slight frown. 

“It wasn’t painful, or difficult,” Emily says slowly. “When Mrs. Kilpatrick died, I got a phone call. She was a distant relative, so it wasn’t even particularly sad. I mean, it was, of course, but - I wasn’t connected to her personally. I didn’t quite believe what they told me at first, but when I came here, and saw this place ...and then I met you, and Herschel, and Cecil. It was easy to make the adjustment. Both in terms of moving here and starting to run the B&B - and mentally. I can tell that the information about the Warehouse is inside of me even if I can’t access it - I know my body feels a little different than it used to. But it didn’t hurt. It was just a touch of Merv’s hand to my forehead, and then things were a little different in here.”

She taps her forehead with a smile, but then that quickly fades back into a concerned expression. “Sammy - why do you ask?”

“Because -” Sammy clears his throat, but no matter how many times he tries, he can’t make the first step. Emily blinks at him, clearly giving him time, but he doesn’t think it’ll help. “Dammit, Emily, can’t you just figure it out without me having to say it like you always do?”

Emily squeezes his hand again, expression soft. “I have a guess. But please, can you try to tell me?”

Sammy closes his eyes, and takes an unsteady breath. “I have less than two weeks to decide whether or not I’ll become the next Caretaker.”

Emily’s still for a moment, her expression unreadable. Sammy’s heart pounds anxiously. Then she says, deadly serious and nearly urgent, “Sammy - you do realize that being the Keeper is nothing like what being the Caretaker would be?”

“I do,” Sammy says, swallowing. “But you’re still bonded to this place. You’re the only person I can ask since Merv’s so out of the picture now.”

“I live a mostly ordinary life,” Emily says, words slow and measured and calmer than Sammy might have expected. “I have the life of a bed and breakfast owner who just so happens to be involved in the paranormal happenings of the globe. The Caretaker - you’d _ be _a paranormal happening who just so happened to exist in conjunction with people living ordinary lives.” 

“I know,” Sammy says, his voice coming out strangled and honestly, probably afraid. “I know if I say yes - then this place is all I’ll ever have. But it’s….it’s all I’ll ever have, anyway, isn’t it?"

Emily takes his other hand in hers, her grip tightening and her face set. “Sammy. You never know what the future holds for you. But if you choose to be the Caretaker - you’ll become like Merv someday.”

Merv - scattered, vague, never makes any sense, a bit ethereal - and then just gone. Disappeared. Notes in his handwriting getting more and more infrequent as the years pass. 

“I think Merv’s in the walls,” Sammy says softly, and Emily stands up straighter, looking around the small office with suspicious eyes. “It’s not based on anything, just - I think he finally became completely _ one _with this place. And now we can’t even see him anymore.”

Emily’s quiet for a moment before she says. “I can see how you’d think of that as….I don’t know, convenient. Being able to disappear. But I just want you to think about what’s best for you - not what would feel the easiest, but what would help you live the best, most fulfilling life possible. If you really think that’s becoming the Caretaker, then...then you should.”

Sammy stares at her. He wasn’t expecting that. Then again, Emily is practical, more so than anyone else he knows. 

“It’s a great sacrifice,” Emily continues, “but someone has to do it, in order to keep the world safe. And I can’t think of anyone else who loves this place more than you. You would be well-suited for caring for this place ...forever.

Emily’s voice wobbles, and oh no, this is even worse than Sammy imagined. She’s blinking her tears away as she stares up at the ceiling, as if she doesn’t want Sammy to see. 

“But know that if you made that choice, it would hurt the people who love you most,” Emily’s crying now, just a tear, but it’s enough to get Sammy to shed a tear, too. “Including me.” 

“I’m sorry,” Sammy says, because there’s nothing else to say. “I don’t want to. I really don’t want to hurt anyone. If I take the job - maybe I can make sure no one else gets to hurt you. I’d be the only one who caused you pain.”

“A sacrifice,” Emily repeats, shaking her head at Sammy sadly. “You would make an excellent martyr. I love you, Sammy, and I will no matter what you choose. But it will _hurt _to love you, when you're ...when you’re not quite _you, _anymore.”

“I don’t know if I’ll take it,” Sammy feels the need to justify. “I haven’t decided. I don’t know what to do.”

“I can’t tell you that, if that’s what you’re looking for. Only you can make that decision,” Emily tells him, and Sammy knew that’s what she’d say. “I’ll stand by your side no matter what, and if you choose - choose to be the Caretaker, I’ll try to help the others see why. I don’t think they’ll quite understand, though.”

She doesn’t say it as a jab at him, but as a quiet admission that they both already know. It’s silent for a moment until -

“You’ll lose a lot,” Emily’s voice is more definite than it’s been before, and she’s not quite looking at him. “Not just your chance at an ordinary life but specifically - a life with Jack.”

Sammy bites his tongue, because now he wants to cry again. “Why - why do you - do you think I’d -”

“Because I have eyes?” Emily says, and a watery hiccup that’s almost a laugh bubbles out of her mouth. “Sammy, from the moment Jack got here, I knew you liked him just as much as he liked you. I also knew you were too scarred by...by what had happened before that you’d never do anything about it. I didn’t want to push you, so I stayed quiet. I thought someday, after you’d have time to heal - well, that he would wait for you.”

“Do you still think that?” 

The question escapes from Sammy, urgency taking over. 

Emily’s gaze softens. “Of course he would. Jack would wait for you forever, but - Jack won't have the same kind of forever you will. If you take the job.”

A horrible spasm of guilt hits Sammy’s chest, and he has to look away. 

“Can I ask you something?” Emily asks when Sammy doesn’t speak again. Her voice is soft, not prodding, only loving. Sammy nods. 

“Do you want to take this job,” Emily starts, clearing choosing her words delicately, “because you still feel guilty about what happened to Cecil?”

It’s barely a question. She already knows the answer.

“Yeah.”

“And do you think that becoming the Caretaker will somehow make up for your part in it? That since you put this place in danger of an invasion, it’s up to you to take care of it, at your own personal detriment?”

“I....yeah.”

“And do you think that you should deny yourself any kind of substantive happiness because you feel as if, because of what happened, you don't deserve a good life?"

“You know me too well,” Sammy tries to laugh, but there’s no humor in it. 

Emily stands, side-steps the desk between them, and pulls Sammy’s head to her chest. 

Sammy only lets himself cry against her for a minute. The last time he did this had been - had been after. He didn’t think he deserved it, but Emily held him close and told him it wasn’t his fault. At the time, he thought she’d been lying to him. Now, he knows better, because Emily truly thinks that. 

It’s all a matter of opinion, though.

“Maybe,” Emily says quietly when Sammy lets go, “you should call Herschel. He’d love to talk to you, you know. You’re like a son to him.” 

“I can’t,” Sammy says, a lump in his throat. “I mean, he’d probably just call me a pussy and tell me to stop my moping and make a goddamn decision for once in my life -”

“Probably,” Emily agrees, and Sammy hears the smile in her voice, “but he’d also tell you that he loves you, that it’s not your fault, and you should make decisions based on your own personal happiness and not what you think you deserve as punishment.”

“It’s too hard, talking to him,” Sammy says, even though he knows she’s right. Emily’s always right. “I can’t.”

“Okay,” Emily says, because she doesn’t push. She’s been Sammy’s support beam for nine years now, the first real friend Sammy had in his life. “But you know his number.”

* * *

Sammy walks through the Warehouse aisles with Lucille Ball in his arms. He hadn’t wanted to bring her, but she’d sprung up on him halfway through his journey, saying _don’t go alone. _

She wouldn’t leave him, so Sammy supposes he can do with his cat there to comfort him as he enters the Bronze Chamber. 

He never comes here if he can help it. Jack, Lily, and Ben have only been here once, at least with him. Sammy had caught Ben examining Micah, and Sammy hadn’t slept for three days after. 

All of the people throughout history who committed crimes against the Warehouse are here, forever encased in Bronze. Not dead. Living statues. The process is reversible, but highly unlikely that it’ll happen to anyone here.

Sammy stops to look at Judd Gunderson first, his menacing form completely overcome by the bronze. He’d screamed, Sammy had heard it all the way down in the offices. He’d closed his eyes and put his head between his knees. 

He hadn’t heard Micah scream. He hadn’t heard anything from him at all. 

_ Hate him, _Lucille Ball hisses when they approach Micah’s statue. He’s Sammy’s height, and in life his hair had been reddish-brown and his eyes blue, but now everything is just bronze. 

His face is frozen in a contorted smile, though. Like he’d been laughing. Sammy has always had nightmares about that laugh, even though he hadn’t heard it. 

“You’ll be here forever,” Sammy tells Micah, who can’t reply, can’t hear him, can't do anything anymore.

Sammy remembers telling Emily, so excited, _ I want you to meet somebody. _He’d never introduced anyone to his boyfriend before. He’d never had a boyfriend to introduce, or a friend to be introduced to. 

“Maybe I’ll be here forever, too,” Sammy says, and Micah’s smile doesn’t change. Will never change. “That’s fitting, I guess.”

_ I miss baby kitty, _ Lucille Ball says as they walk back through the aisles together. _All is happier when baby kitty is upstairs. Now everything is sad. _

_ I miss Ben, too, _Sammy admits, hoping that Ben gets back tonight so Sammy can stop worrying about him - and stop being alone. 

* * *

Jack, Lily, and Ben get home the next afternoon. Ben bounds in, talking a mile a minute about how exciting everything was, how he’d stopped the deputy sheriff from getting away by tripping him, how Jack had apprehended sheriff, all of Lily’s excellent one-liners.

All while hugging Sammy and telling him he wished he’d been there, too.

Sammy can’t help but wish the same, even as he congratulates Ben on a job well done and reassures him that he'd been just fine for twenty-four hours alone in the Warehouse. He had Lucille Ball, after all.

Because Sammy’s decided that avoidance isn’t the method that’s going to work for him anymore, he organizes a cleaning day of the Musical Aisle, because Ben’s been asking ever since he discovered the Musical Aisle and accidentally used the Sondheim’s Kazoo. 

“No singing,” Sammy says sternly to the crew, even though Ben’s already, without artifact-induced help, belting out the words to Greased Lightning. “Especially not Grease.”

“But Lily’s the perfect Rizzo!” Ben protests, and to Sammy’s horror, Lily starts singing along off-key to Sandra Dee, and there’a a duet happening.

Sammy turns to Jack with wide eyes. Jack’s giggling, but not singing himself because he values Sammy’s sanity, probably. “Save me, Jack.”

“Always,” Jack throws an arm around Sammy’s shoulder and pulls him away from Ben and Lily. Sammy melts just the slightest bit into the touch, but he stops himself before he fully rests his head on Jack’s shoulder. 

He wants to, though. He really wants to. 

They’re not even an hour into the project before Ben’s tested out every artifact that has a label he thinks looks, quote, _ fun, _and now he’s back to Grease songs and he’s recruited Jack to his cause because Sammy’s been betrayed. 

_ “You better shape up,” _ Jack spins Ben around the room, nearly pulling him off the ground, “ _ cause I need a man -” _

“_ And my heart is set on you!” _Ben throws his arms around Jack’s shoulders as they laugh. Sammy’s sitting on the floor, cross-legged, because he’s given up on cleaning to watch the show. He feels warm and pleasant, like none of his problems exist right now. 

Lily’s sitting next to him, leaning against a shelving unit. She’s still playing the harmonica, because no one will take pity on her and neutralize the artifact. She’s stuck accompanying Jack and Ben’s song, glaring at them all the while, but Sammy recognizes the hidden affection for all of them underneath. 

“You can’t talk for a change,” Sammy tells her cheerfully, and she kicks him so hard he thinks it’ll bruise. 

“Lucy!” the second Jack lets Ben go to the ground, Ben springs over to pick up Lucille Ball, who’s poked her head around the corner to see what all the commotion is about. “Just the girl I wanted to see!”

Lucille Ball looks to Sammy, says_ if I must, _and lets Ben lift her into the air. 

_ “There’s nowhere to hide, since you pushed my love aside!” _ Ben croons to Lucille Ball as he holds her to his chest, and she squirms but doesn’t jump down. _ “I’m out of my head, hopelessly devoted -” _

“The hell kind of operation you running here, Stevens? A song and dance show? Christ on a cracker, I knew you were soft but I never took you for a hippy-dippy singing type.”

Oh, _shit. _

Sammy scrambles to his feet, suddenly all too aware that Lily’s still playing the harmonica. He tosses her a neutralizer bag, and she manages to slip the instrument inside, and the music stops. 

Herschel Baumgardner cuts a menacing figure mainly because of his glare. He used to be a tall man, but he’s gotten smaller with age. His hair has gone entirely white since his retirement, but what hasn’t changed is how he can absolutely stare into Sammy’s soul whenever he goddamn pleases. 

Sammy hasn’t seen him in - God, at least two years. But here he is, standing at the end of the musical aisle, feet away from him, the same as ever.

“Hey!” Ben says, clearly affronted. “Don’t talk to him like that! Who even are you?”

Herschel gives Ben a long look. “I’m above your paygrade, son.” 

“Don’t condescend to me,” Ben tells him, and oh God, Ben really shouldn’t do this, but Sammy also can’t stop him. 

“How old are you, kid, twelve?” 

“Hey now,” Jack says, a little sharp, even as Lily giggles under her breath. “Sammy, I’m assuming you know this guy and we don’t have an intruder in the Warehouse?”

Herschel raises his eyebrow at Sammy as if he’s saying _ I dare you to call me an intruder. _

“Guys,” Sammy clears his throat, knowing better, “this is Herschel Baumgardner. He was the lead agent when I first started working here.”

Ben suddenly looks abashed, and Jack and Lily both look from Herschel to Sammy with a combination of surprise and suspicion. That’s fine - Herschel’s an acquired taste if there ever was one. Lily at the very least should get that. 

“You scared me,” Sammy tells Herschel. “You could’ve called.”

“I’m not buying a cell phone just to talk to your ass.”

“You can’t just show up here, though, no warning -”

“Watch me, son,” Herschel says snidely, walking down the aisle to stand directly facing him, only a foot away. Jack and Lily start to move behind Sammy, but Ben steps forward. “I worked for this place for thirty fucking years, I can show up whenever I goddamn well please. You might be in charge now, but if you think I’m gonna take your fucking orders -”

“Oh, please, Sammy can’t give orders,” Lily says and Sammy turns to glare at her. “What? You can’t. You've never even pretended to. But this guy sounds like a real boss ass motherfucker.”

Herschel cocks his head at Lily before nodding approvingly. “I am, but I don’t need the likes of your pretty ass to tell me that.”

“Don’t call me pretty, perv.”

“You look like a motherfucking adult to me.”

“Well, you’ve got one thing right about who I’m fucking.”

“Guys,” Sammy interrupts, suddenly exhausted and overwhelmed at the two most ornery and opinionated people in the world meeting face to face for the first time. “Can we not?”

“So these must be your new recruits,” Herschel’s eyes rake over their little assemblage in judgment. “Younger than the last crowd, that’s for sure. That means less experience. Introduce me.”

It’s a command, and Sammy’s rather used to taking commands from Herschel.

“This is Lily and Jack Wright,” Sammy points at each of them in turn. Lily’s got a pleased look on her face, presumably because she thinks she’s clever and funny. Jack just looks on edge as he glances between Herschel and Sammy. “The field agents here. They’re both formerly of the CIA.”

“Excellent,” Herschel doesn’t smile, but Sammy mentioned the CIA for a reason. “I was CIA. Long time ago. And who’s the kid?”

“I'm not a kid -” 

“This is Ben Arnold,” Sammy interrupts, stepping on Ben’s foot. “He’s our computers expert. He graduated top of his class at Mines.”

Sammy conveniently forgets to mention that Ben was hired after hacking into the Warehouse’s mainframe. That would not impress Herschel in the slightest. 

Herschel looks Ben up and down with hard, sharp eyes. “Back in my day, we had no need for that fancy tech. We just had smarts and muscle.”

“That’s because in your day, it didn't exist, and humanity has adapted since then,” Ben bites back, and Sammy knows it’s a lost cause to try and stop him. “Jesus, Sammy, you had to put up with this guy for how long?”

“Five years, pipsqueak, and he ended up tougher because of it,” Herschel gets a proud sort of glint in his eye as he looks back at Sammy, and Sammy feels a little warm because he knows it’s Herschel’s version of a compliment. “I bet he’s soft on all of you, though. Especially you, kid. You look spoiled rotten.”

Herschel’s voice softens almost imperceptibly, and Sammy knows without a doubt that Herschel’s thinking about Cecil when he looks at Ben. 

Sammy clears his throat, lightheaded. “Herschel, can I help you with something?”

“Yeah, you can help reassure me that you haven't turned vegetarian on me since I left this dump,” Herschel tilts his head, then says “Sorry, old girl. Didn’t mean that.”

He pats the shelving unit he’s closest to. “C’mon, Stevens. Burgers on me. I’m sure your team can live without you for an hour, especially if all you’re doing is fucking John Travolta impersonations.”

Sammy, because refusing Herschel is a fate no one can endure, nods with a sigh. 

Jack catches Sammy’s arm before he can step forward to meet Herschel, though, and says in a low voice “You don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

“Son, I know I may seem gruff, but Stevens _ does _like me,” Herschel interrupts Jack with a slight roll of his eyes in Sammy’s direction. “I’m giving him a hard time because we’re friends, and I bully the hell out of my friends.”

“I think he seems very trustworthy,” Lily says mildly. She reaches over to pat Sammy's elbow as if she's reassuring him. Ben mutters _ of course you do _under his breath. 

“It’s fine, Jack,” Sammy says because Jack is still looking at him with an expectant, worried glint in his eye. “I’ll call you when we’re done and you can come pick me up, alright?”

Jack nods, slow but he seems satisfied enough at the answer, and lets go of his grip on Sammy’s forearm. Sammy misses the contact, but doesn’t let himself think about that. 

“Jesus, Stevens, I drove a whole two hours in the Grand Cherokee to take you to lunch and this is the thanks I get? Move your ass.”

Sammy hides a smile as he follows Herschel down the aisle and back in the center of the Warehouse. As much as seeing Herschel is painful now, Herschel had been absolutely right in what he told Jack. 

They are friends. And Sammy’s missed him.


	4. Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know how technology works, and I included more South Dakota levels of projection. Hope everyone likes it!

“So,” Herschel studies Sammy with a displeased furrow of his brow. Sammy’s not offended. Herschel’s been displeased with the world at large since Sammy met him. “The new team seems ...insubordinate.”

Herschel frowns and takes a giant bite of his burger. Sammy picks at his fries, because even though he’s not a vegetarian, he doesn’t eat nearly as meat without Herschel around to lecture him on the importance of rare steaks.

Sammy chuckles, glancing around the diner in Univille that Herschel drove them to in his ancient Grand Cherokee. There’s almost no other customers, so they got the nicest booth by the largest window that looks out onto the one main road leading through town. “Uh. Yeah. You could say that. I don’t really want them to be subordinate, though, so…”

“You telling me you took over my job just to continue puttering around in the aisles and not tell anyone what to do?” Herschel rolls his eyes. “Jesus, Stevens. Grow a pair. Someone’s always in charge. If it’s not you, who?”

Sammy considers the question seriously. “Lily, mostly. Sometimes Jack. Emily, when she wants to make us feel bad. Rarely Ben. Never me.”

Herschel sighs like Sammy’s a lost cause. Which he probably is in Herschel’s book. There’s never been a manlier man than Herschel F. Baumgardner, hardened war hero, ex-CIA agent, and all-around artifacts-busting badass. 

It used to make Sammy feel insecure, Herschel repeatedly telling him to man up, but he’s gotten used to it. It’s Herschel’s way of showing he cares. 

“Well, I’m sure they’re a good crew, if you picked them,” Herschel wrinkles his nose, glaring at Sammy as he speaks just to harden him around the edges slightly while he says something nice for a change. “Best of the best, and all that.”

“They are,” Sammy says, not able to help the warm feeling in his chest. He takes a bite of his burger, and Herschel nods approvingly. 

“So I’m guessin’ you might know why I’m here,” Herschel says, and Sammy falters, setting his food back down but not looking back up at Herschel’s face. 

“Maybe,” Sammy says warily. “I’m assuming Emily called you.”

“Course she did, that girl has more common sense than half the planet put together,” Herschel says. “And she knew that only I could give you the pep talk you needed.”

“I - pep talk?” Sammy asks blankly, not sure what exactly Herschel’s referring to. “What did Emily tell you?”

Herschel glances around the empty restaurant, then leans closer to Sammy with a grimace. “She didn’t need to tell me anything, kid. Ron Begley called me up last week.”

A horrible pit unfurls in Sammy’s stomach. “I - what?”

“Asked if I’d recommend you for the job,” Herschel’s smile is a little wolfish. “Told him I’d recommend you for any goddamn thing they wanted, but that didn’t mean they had my stamp of approval in asking you in the first place.”

Sammy manages to swallow, coughing a bit. He hadn’t expected Herschel to be so entrenched in the issue at hand already. “You recommended me?”

“Christ, is that the only thing you latch onto here? It’s barely a compliment, there’s hardly anyone cut out for that line of work, and only a handful of souls even know about the fucking place, so don’t get a big head. Of course I recommended you, you buffoon.”

Sammy does recognize it as a compliment, though, because despite the exasperated expression on Herschel’s perpetually grumpy face, he wouldn’t recommend just anybody.

That he’d do it for Sammy makes him feel flattered, but also overwhelmingly guilty and insecure at the same time. 

“It’s a tough gig. You think you’re up for it, soft-hearted sort like you?”

“I have absolutely no idea,” Sammy admits, squeezing his eyes shut just for a second. When he opens them, Herschel’s expression has turned from a frown into a line, which means he’s trying his best to be comforting. 

“It’s a rough line of work,” Herschel acknowledges, taking a long drink of water. Sammy had to convince him not to get Mountain Dew when they ordered. “Merv used to be around, but as the years went by, he got sporadic. I hear he doesn’t show up at all these days. I wouldn’t want to see that happen to you - getting melded to that place the way he is, so you can’t even really be here anymore.”

If Herschel was a little less ornery, he might’ve reached across the table to pat Sammy’s hand or shoulder. As it stands, Herschel just sighs through his nose and takes another bite of his burger. 

“I’m not saying it’s the wrong choice,” Herschel adds when Sammy doesn’t respond immediately. “But you’ve gotta be sure, son. Otherwise it’s just gonna be a painful eternity for ya’.”

“I’m...worried,” Sammy admits when Herschel raises his eyebrow expectently, awaiting a response. “Worried that I don’t have what it takes. But also...worried that I do.”

Herschel nods. Sammy knew he’d understand what’s so difficult for him to put into words. 

“I can’t tell you that one way or the other,” Herschel says, voice firm. “What I can tell you is that you’re a good man - and we need a good man in charge of that place. But we also need good men out here in the world.”

Herschel lets the moment sit, chewing on his burger while Sammy stares at his hands. Herschel usually hides his compliments much better than that, he usually doesn’t stray that far into unfiltered genuineness. Sammy’s grateful, but he can’t stop the remorse filtering through his entire body when he evens looks in Herschel’s direction.

“I worry that if I was bonded to the Warehouse, it would somehow…” Sammy struggles to get the words out. “....somehow make the place less safe. I think I would let it become more vulnerable, because - because  _ I’m  _ more vulnerable. But then again, maybe I’d become less so if…”

“I know I talk a lot of shit,” Herschel says suddenly, nearly violently as he stares in Sammy’s direction, trying to drill the sentiment into Sammy’s brain with his too-intent eyes, “but vulnerability ain’t a bad thing. Everyone’s vulnerable. Except me, of course.”

Herschel chuckles, clearly self-deprecating, but Sammy can’t join him, can’t take this lightly, can’t take Herschel’s words to heart because -

“Hersch, I need to tell you something,” the words spill out of Sammy unbidden, and the tears that well up behind his eyes are just as painful as they are unexpected. “Cecil -”

Herschel blinks at him, clearly a little taken aback at his tone. “Stevens, if you’re still hung up feeling shitty about that -”

“How could I not be?” Sammy interrupts, voice laced in his own four years of utter misery every time he thinks about Cecil’s kind blue eyes.

“Because I told you to stop,” Herschel says, as if that should be enough. “No one could’ve helped that fucking mess. No one. Judd Gunderson had it out for me for fucking decades, and nothing was gonna stop him from taking his revenge on me. Nothing. Not even you. You hear me?”

Herschel’s tone is somewhere between commanding and imploring, but it doesn’t help. It never has, no matter how many times Herschel or Ron or Emily or anyone else says it to him.

Sammy had to go on trial with the Regents, afterwards, to assess his culpability in the crime. He knew some of the Regents like Ron and Mary had stuck up for him, while some of them, like Grisham, wanted him bronzed, or at the very least gone from the Warehouse forever, certainly not left in defacto charge of the place. 

He knows perfectly well that it’s only because of Herschel that he’s where he is now. Herschel retired, and insisted Sammy take his place, that he trusted no one else to take care of the Warehouse in his absence. 

“No one could have changed what happened that day,” Herschel repeats himself, steely and absolute. “And it’s all ancient history now, anyway. So why cry over it?”

“Because I could’ve,” Sammy admits, stomach twisting. He’s only said this at his trial, and to Emily, later, in tears. “I could’ve stopped it, Herschel. It’s my fault it happened in the first place.”

“If you’re talking about that red-haired kid who let Gunderson in -”

Micah. Micah Lake, Sammy’s first real boyfriend, who he would drive to meet in Rapid City and they’d hold hands under the seats in movie theatres, who would take him hiking in the most obscure places Sammy's never heard of, who he would sneak back to the B&B hoping that no one stumbled on them in the night. 

“You knew that I was the one who let him into the Warehouse,” Sammy’s breaths are coming out in puffs now, “but - but you never knew that he it wasn’t mind control. It wasn’t one of Gunderson’s stolen artifacts that gave him power over me. I let him in because - because I _ let him in _ .”

Sammy stares numbly at the table, not able to look Herschel in the eye, maybe ever again. “He was my One, Herschel. The one person I told about the Warehouse Because for a year and a half before it happened, I was sneaking around behind your back with him. He was my boyfriend and I was so scared you’d find out, and hate me for it, and kick me out of the Warehouse forever. So I stayed quiet, and then -”

He can’t say what happened next. He can barely think it. 

When Herschel speaks, his voice is softer than Sammy’s heard it in the ten years since he met him. 

“Sammy,” Herschel says in a heavy voice, and the use of Sammy’s first name startles him enough into looking up into Herschel’s face. Unchanged in expression, other than the wrinkles around his eyes seem more pronounced than ever. “If you’re gonna insist on this fucked up train of logic, then maybe everything that happened is my fault, since I made you think that I’d hate you if you told me.”

Herschel clears his throat, loud and sudden. Sammy blinks back surprised tears.

“Not that you were anywhere fucking close to correct on that count,” Herschel’s gruff tone and glare returns. “I wish you would’ve said something, so I could’ve met the guy and realized what a fucking phony he was.”

Sammy swallows down a response to that, because that’s a bruise he can’t press on today. He’s already in too much pain right now to go digging up more skeletons. 

“But I didn’t,” Sammy says dully. “I didn’t, and then he let Judd Gunderson inside to wreak havoc. I should’ve known better than to trust him, but I didn’t, and now Cecil’s - Cecil’s  _ dead,  _ and it’s my fault.”

A limp body, with Cecil’s glassy blue eyes, just outside the Dark Vault. Sammy had sobbed into Cecil’s shirtsleeves until Emily dragged him away. 

“No, it’s not,” Herschel’s voice is sharp, though Sammy can hear the emotion in it as they both think of Cecil, Herschel’s best friend and partner of over thirty years that he lost because of Sammy’s carelessness. “It’s that fucker’s fault. It’s Judd Gunderson’s fucking fault for being the one who pulled the trigger. It’s only the fault of the monster that did the killing, and Gunderson did it to hurt  _ me.  _ That shitstick boyfriend of yours - he was just a pawn in a larger game. But pawn or king piece, now they’re both stuck for all eternity, no way out, for what they did to my Cecil.”

Herschel nearly gets choked up, voice wavering, and takes another bite of his burger with a pronounced scowl. 

“It’s still my -”

“Stevens, I know you love to talk, but shut the hell up for once,” Herschel cuts him off. “You don’t need my forgiveness - but if you want it, here it is. I forgive you. I don’t care if you’re gay. I don’t care if you have the worst taste in men possible. I don’t care what your role is in what happened to Cecil - because you didn’t mean to hurt him, and I think you’ve already punished yourself far more than the Regents ever could.”

Herschel stops glaring, then says “Cecil forgives you, too. I know he would. He thought of you like a grandson.”

“You’d think he would’ve learned my name, then,” Sammy mutters and Herschel barks out a laugh. For the first year Sammy knew Cecil, he’d just been  _ the new guy.  _ Then, after Emily had taken over the B&B, Sammy became  _ Emily’s friend.  _

“You’d think,” Herschel chuckles, and uses a napkin to wipe at his eyes. “So?”

“So what?” Sammy asks, dread filling up his insides again after a brief moment of levity. He knows Herschel means what he says, and he appreciates the sentiments, but it still doesn’t help his predicament. “I still don’t know if I have what it takes -”

“Not that,” Herschel interrupts. “So which of the boys is it?”

“Huh?”

“The boys,” Herschel repeats with emphasis. “Shortstack or tall, dark, and handsome?”

“Are you - I - Herschel - are you - are you _asking me_ _about my love life_?”

“Obviously, keep up,” Herschel gestures his burger in Sammy’s direction somewhat intimidatingly. “This is me being supportive.”

“I’m not - that’s to say - I’m not really the dating - type - I mean - ” Sammy blushes, then owns up. “The tall one.”

“Good taste,” Herschel nods and Sammy stares at him in mortification. This is not a conversation he ever thought he’d have with his pseudo-mentor figure who delighted in calling him various vagina-related insults. “I’m sure I’d like him.”

“You’d like Ben, too,” Sammy feels the need to add, though he’s not sure why. “He’s - I think he’ll be like Cecil someday.”

Kind-hearted and generous and always there for you, is what Sammy means. Not that Ben isn’t those things already, but he’s the baby of the family and not the wizened old grandfather Cecil had been. 

Herschel sets down his burger, and looks Sammy square in the eye in a way that makes Sammy more nervous than any of the rest of their painful and mortifying conversation has been. 

“Son,” Herschel says, quiet in his intensity, “I was never offered your choice. But if I was, do you know what I would’ve done?”

Sammy shakes his head, though Herschel has his completely undivided attention now if he didn’t before. 

“I would’ve told the Regents to fuck right off,” Herschel says. “Because I had my Edna and my Cecil, and they were my world. I wouldn’t ever want to be apart from them, not for anything. And even though my darling wife and best friend are both gone now, and I’m alone just like I would’ve been if I’d been Caretaker, I wouldn’t take that shit back. Not for anything. Because I got to grow old with my two people.”

Herschel blinks a few times. Sammy thinks that he might cry, but then his hazy brown eyes clear up and return to their usual intensity. 

“Sounds to me like you’ve got two people, too,” Herschel says. “Not to mention the lovely Miss Emily, and that bitchy sister of your man. You’ve got a chance for a life like that - and if you want it? Don’t blow it.”

Sammy can’t do anything but nod. 

They talk, much more quietly, about various Warehouse business until Herschel pays the bill and stands to leave. 

“I’ve gotta get home before the fish start biting,” Herschel explains, and Sammy can’t help but smile. “Call me if the old Warehouse starts acting up. I’ll come set her straight.”

He pats Sammy’s shoulder, just for a moment, and then leaves Sammy sitting alone in the booth. 

He watches Herschel’s Grand Cherokee zoom out of Univille, and Sammy wonders what the person he’d been ten years ago would’ve thought of that conversation.

Sammy had been so, so afraid of Herschel from the moment they met, that somehow he would find out about Sammy and unceremoniously remove him from the only place he’d ever felt like he belonged. Sammy had discreetly tried to find out if Warehouse agents were allowed to be gay without actually asking anyone for years.

Now, Herschel had not only accepted Sammy, but forgiven him for his part in the death of Herschel’s best friend. And today, the Warehouse’s gay agents outnumber its straight ones. And one of them might like Sammy back. 

And Sammy might be Caretaker in a week’s time.

Sammy from ten years ago wouldn’t have believed a word of it. 

* * *

Sammy expects to see Jack in the driver’s seat of the SUV - that’s who he texted to come pick him up, after all - but he squints in confusion when he sees Lily wave as she pulls up next to the burger place where Sammy’s waiting outside. 

“Where’s Jack?” Sammy asks when Lily unlocks the doors. 

“Playing Dark Souls with Ben,” Lily rolls her eyes good-naturedly. “I’m here as your benevolent Uber driver, and I do expect to be paid at the end of the ride.”

“Fat chance,” Sammy slams the door behind him. 

They drive in silence for all of thirty seconds before Lily says “Check your left shirtsleeve.”

“What?” Sammy, not sure exactly what Lily’s playing at but knowing it can’t be good, pulls at his button-up’s sleeve that’s rolled up to his elbow, and then finds a piece of tape that certainly isn’t his.”

“This is Virginia Hall’s,” Sammy says slowly, picturing the exact tape dispenser this came from in the aisle adjacent to the Dark Vault. “Lily, did you  _ bug  _ me?”

“You’ve been so fucking weird and distant lately - and you’re always weird and distant, obviously, but this was a new level,” Lily explains as if it’s all perfectly justifiable. Sammy can’t breathe. “Oh, Christ, are you gonna vomit? Don’t vomit in the car, I’ll pull over.”

She does, just outside of town, and Sammy coughs out the open door for a few minutes before he puts his head between his knees, feeling his heart pounding. 

Lily had bugged him. Lily had just heard that entire conversation. 

“You fucking privacy breach,” Sammy says when he can speak against, head still on his knees. Lily patted his shoulder from the driver’s seat twice, but Sammy had shoved her away. “That’s my business, not yours.”

“See, if it had just been a business lunch with your old boss, I would’ve felt bad, but at least I would’ve known nothing worse was happening,” Lily’s tone is nearly conversational. “But from what I heard, it’s way fucking more than that. So I’m glad I did it. Because if you’re going to become the Caretaker, that’s not just your problem. It’s all of ours.”

Sammy turns to face Lily with an acerbic retort on his lips - 

And then he sees that Lily’s gripping the steering wheel with an awful kind of ferocity, even though the car is in park. Though her voice was steely, her face is anything but. Her lip is quivering, and her eyes are red. 

And then she leans across the counsel of the car and hugs Sammy tightly, arms around his neck.

Sammy’s so shocked that his arms go to her waist automatically, and even though he’s too uncomfortable to cry into her, it’s a very near thing when she strokes his hair for half a second.

She pulls away, still upset, but jaw set now as if she’s putting that out of her mind. “I’m sorry. For everything I just heard.”

Sammy nods, slowly. He doesn’t know how much sense it all makes out of context, but surely Lily knows enough now to piece a few things together. 

“Look,” Lily says, slumping her shoulders with a sigh. “I’m the master of casual sex. We all know that. But - Jack isn’t.”

Sammy feels suddenly too hot.

“I never knew why you and Jack didn’t just -” Lily makes a lewd motion with her hand. “You both clearly want to, it’s so fucking obvious. He’s a romantic, though, he can’t just talk you into a one night stand. I knew it had to be a Capital R Relationship for you guys to be together - and I’ll admit I always thought a little less of you because you wouldn’t get involved with him like that. I thought you didn’t take him seriously.”

Lily bites her lip. “I’m sorry I didn’t give you any benefit of the doubt. But you have to realize - Jack isn’t anything like whoever that horrible man is you were with before. He thinks you’re wonderful. He wants to be with you. He honestly probably is in love with you.”

“Lily,” Sammy’s voice is strangled with emotion, a thousand different ones that don’t have names, “I love Jack, of course I do, it would be impossible not to.”

“He’s a charmer like that,” Lily acknowledges, but then her face turns stony. “Sammy, I’m dead fucking serious right now. If you think you’re going to take this job, you  _ have  _ to tell Jack. Because whether you love him or not, this is going to hurt him, and hurt him badly.”

Sammy knows that, of course. He’s always known that he’s going to cause far too much undue pain to his friends. 

“I don’t want to hurt him,” Sammy says. “I’ve always taken Jack seriously. I just - I don’t think I’m cut out for what Jack deserves from me. I’m too - damaged. But maybe I’m not damaged enough for the Warehouse.”

The only one who’ll have him - a decrepit old building. It’s fitting. 

“Jack wants you anyway,” Lily’s at once fierce and quiet. “Somehow. I don’t know. I think you’re boring and not that cute, but Jack thinks you’re just as charming as everyone else finds him. Don’t ask me how.”

Sammy tries to smile, but he thinks it comes across more like a grimace. 

“I know you’re not stringing him along or leading him on,” Lily says, “but you have to realize that if you become the Caretaker, you have to tell him that there’s no chance. Ever. Got it?”

Sammy nods, because he does it get it. Maybe no version of being with Sammy is fair to Jack, but a relationship with an immortal Caretaker who isn’t entirely human is the worst, most unfair version of romance there ever was. 

“Jack will be able to recover if you become the Caretaker, as long as you let him go. But nothing in the world will hurt him more than you choosing the Warehouse, with him on the side. You either choose Jack, or choose the Warehouse. And if you try -”

Lily takes a shuddering breath, and doesn’t look Sammy in the eye. Lily’s never ashamed of anything she says, but Sammy knows instinctively that she already feels guilty about whatever she’s about to say. 

“I’ll use the Harman Helmet to make Jack forget you exist.”

Sammy stares. “Lily - that’s - I mean, you’d have to erase his whole memory of the Warehouse.”

Lily nods, tears in her eyes as she stares at the road ahead and not Sammy. “I know. And if he ever found out, he’d never forgive me. And neither will Ben and Emily. But I’ll do what I have to - because Jack’s head over heels for you. And seeing you as the Caretaker will be painful enough. The only way I will  _ ever  _ let you be in a relationship with my little brother is if you’re still human.”

Sammy stares at his hands. He never would’ve tried be both - the Caretaker and Jack’s. He knew he could only have one or the other from the start. But Lily’s threat still hangs over him, looming and terrifying, because a world where Jack doesn’t know his name is a world Sammy won’t and can’t live in. 

“I’m not saying that I’ll stop you from becoming the Caretaker, that I’ll destroy my brother’s life just for that,” Lily whispers, strained. “I hope you choose Jack - choose life - choose  _ the team -  _ but if you don’t, I’ll still be here. No matter what, I’ll be here. So will everyone else. We’ll all talk shit about you, but we won’t leave.”

She leans over to nudge Sammy’s shoulder, and keeps nudging until she gets a smile out of him, even if it barely counts as one. 

“I’ve got thick skin, though. And so does Emily,” Lily says. “The boys, though - they’re sensitive. It’ll hurt them worse. Jack because he loves you, and Ben - well, also because he loves you, just in his own weirdly emotional Ben way.”

“I don’t want to hurt anybody,” Sammy repeats, all the while feeling as if Lily’s suffocating him with these blunt reminders of things he knows but doesn’t want to think about. 

“It doesn’t matter to me whether or not you look like you’re in your thirties forever. I’ll be annoyed about it when I’m sixty and have a million doctor’s appointments every week, but I’ll survive. Ben and Jack, though?”

Lily looks Sammy square in the eye, her brown eyes so similar to her brother’s it’s almost unnerving. “They want to grow old with you.”

The air goes out of Sammy’s lungs, and he thinks of Herschel and Cecil and Edna, old and wrinkled and loving each other through the decades. 

“If you let him, Jack would marry you. He’d have a family with you. And Ben would make a place for himself in that family and we all know it. The thought of you being alone, without them, someday - that would crush them both.”

Lily hesitates. “Maybe even Ben more than Jack. Because Jack’s dealt with his fair share of heartbreak. You’d be the worst, the most painful. But Ben? Ben hasn’t. Ben’s never had his heart shattered before, and I don’t know about you, but I wouldn’t want to be the person responsible for making that much of a mess of him.”

“I don’t,” Sammy says, miserable. “I won’t. I’ll - I don’t know what I’ll do, but I - Lily, you know I just want what’s best for everyone, and maybe what’s best is if I was just - just  _ less _ .”

“If you really think that,” Lily says, and puts the car back in drive, her expression unreadable.

She drives him back to the Warehouse without another word, and then hugs him again before he gets out of the car. He waves as she drives away, and Sammy might be imagining seeing tears on her face. 

Ben and Jack are both in his office when Sammy arrives, though Jack’s head is lolling against Ben’s shoulder as they sit facing Ben’s video game set-up. 

“Shh,” Ben grins delightedly up at Sammy as Jack snuffles in his sleep. “He’s so sleepy. I think the dancing wore him out. He doesn’t have the Grease Lightning stamina that I do.”

“No one does or should,” Sammy whispers back, and he tries to smile but there are tears threatening to spill. Ben’s wide green eyes, so trusting that no one, especially Sammy, will ever do him wrong, are beaming up at him like beacons. 

Ben quietly starts singing Beauty School Drop-Out like it’s a lullaby, and Sammy finds himself being lulled into complacency by the melody. 

It’s almost calming, which usually isn’t a Ben Side Effect. Ben usually gets Sammy’s adrenaline going because he’s so high-key, all day, all the time. Now though, the office feels like a safe, quiet space, free from the world at large. 

It’s like nothing hurts, and Sammy focuses on the sound of Ben’s voice.

* * *

Two years and three months ago, Sammy had been doing his monthly check-up of the digital security systems that he only sort of understood, when he noticed an anomaly in the system. 

Sammy had never seen an anomaly before. He only knew how to spot problems with the technology - he had no clue what to do to fix them.

He picked up his Farnsworth - he hadn’t had a cell phone at that point - and dialed into Jack. 

“Hey, I know it’s your day off,” Sammy felt guilty about even asking, because in the first year, Sammy hadn’t been entirely certain whether or not Jack liked him, “but could you come look at something for me?”

Jack’s there within twenty minutes, leaning over Sammy’s shoulder, up close in his personal space. Sammy only had time to think about that for two minutes, because that’s when Jack said “The system’s been breached.”

“I -  _ what _ ? What do you mean, breached?”

Another failure from Sammy to protect this place. 

“I mean, someone has access to our computer systems. Here, move over, I’ll try to track down the IP address.”

Sammy moved aside, feeling numb and horrible at letting the Warehouse be taken over yet again by a force outside of his control. Maybe if he was better at technology, this wouldn’t have happened. What if it’s some ally of Gunderson’s? They’re out there, Sammy knows perfectly well. Did his carelessness put his home in danger yet again - and this time Jack and Lily Wright as well? Was Sammy going to find Jack’s body in the aisles instead of Cecil’s this time?

“Hey, hey, calm down,” Jack interrupted his typing to grab Sammy’s wrist, not his hand, and squeeze. “We’re gonna figure this out.”

Jack is good with computers, and it only takes him half an hour to track down the location where the hack had come from. 

It’s only seventy miles away. 

Lily’s visiting a girlfriend of hers out of state, so it’s Sammy who ends up having to go with Jack to find out what had happened. The address is just outside a small town in the Hills - Sammy expected to find an underground storage facility or a cabin hideaway in the trees, perfect for a recluse bent on the Warehouse’s destruction. 

What he didn’t expect was a small, green and yellow house just off a main road, with a creek winding just outside and an old wooden sign over the road that says  _ Arnold Residence. _

Sammy and Jack trade glances, and Sammy could tell Jack was as surprised as he was. Jack slowly let go of his weapon as the car approached. 

Jack knocked on the door, Sammy hanging behind him slightly because he rarely went out in the field and this was Jack’s area of expertise. 

The door opened on Ben Arnold, who at the time was twenty-two years old, a senior in college, and just as short as he is now, with an even more severe baby face and perfect curls on top of his head.

“Oh, shit,” Ben’s mouth fell open at the sight of them, like he knew exactly who they were. “Oh, goddamn, shit. Can we - um - I’m really sorry, um, Jack, right? About breaking into your systems. I swear if I knew what it was, I wouldn’t have done it. Can we just - can we talk outside? Maybe? I don’t want my mom to hear and freak out.”

“That, um,” Jack cleared his throat a couple of times in surprise. “I think that would be best.”

Ben shut the door behind him, and he lead them down to the creek which obscured their voices slightly. 

“I’m really sorry,” Ben said again, urgent. “I just - I was bored in class one day, and I always wanted to know what that huge eyesore was in the Badlands. I never believed it was an IRS facility, I thought the government was hiding aliens or some shit - well, not really, I didn’t expect to find anything like that, I just - I’m  _ so  _ sorry.”

“How long have you had access to the systems?” Sammy asked, not sure how to feel right now. He was mainly relieved that this wasn’t anything worse, but still suspicious of the kid’s motivations. And sick to his stomach at the thought that he could have fucked up even worse. “And who  _ are  _ you?”

“Um, Ben,” Ben stuck out his hand to shake. Sammy stared at it, but Jack took it with a bemused look on his face. “Ben Arnold. I’ve been in the system for like a week now? And you’re Agent Jack Wright, which makes you Samuel Stevens?”

“Sammy,” Sammy corrected reflexively, and was taken aback by the way Ben smiled at the use of his nickname. 

“Right, Sammy,” Ben said decisively. “I found your profiles within the system. I’d been working on it for like a month, just trying to break through the firewalls, but I never expected to really  _ do  _ it. Or, um, that I’d be caught. I’m good at erasing my footsteps, usually.”

Ben blushed. 

“That must take some crazy skill,” Jack said, sounding almost impressed. “ _ How - _ ”

Ben launched into a long, convoluted explanation that had Jack nodding along with wide eyes and Sammy not even pretending to understand. 

All Sammy knew was that they had a security breach on their hands, and for once it wasn’t life-threatening. Somehow that made it worse, though, because Sammy was going to have to report this kid to the Regents. And who knew what would happen to him, then?”

“Ben,” Sammy interrupted the explanation, and Ben turned to him with huge green eyes. God, he’s so young. “I’m sorry - but you’re gonna have to come along with us.”

Ben’s smile vanished. “Can I - can I tell my mom goodbye first?”

“Sammy,” Jack said, voice low and imploring, “can’t we just let this one go?”

“You’re not going to get killed,” Sammy promised Ben, hoping that he could keep it, “I’m just going to take you back to our base so we can figure out what to do next.”

“I can see the Warehouse?” Ben’s beam returned, the worry forgotten. 

Sammy even gave Ben a tour when they got back, because if something terrible was going to happen to the guy, he seemed pretty excited to get to know that the supernatural was real. He deserved that, at the very least. 

Sammy told Emily to make up a room for Ben at the B&B, and she gave him a long lecture over the Farnsworth about protecting the innocent, of which she already knew Ben was without ever having to meet him.

When she did meet him, it was naturally love at first sight, and Ben spent the night following her around like a puppy dog and talking to Jack about the finer points of later seasons of The X Files.

Sammy didn’t know what to do. It had been half a day, and Ben had ingratiated himself within the B&B, and Emily and Jack clearly both like him. 

He reported the breach to the Regents, because he had to. 

And then waited. Waited, waited, and waited some more.

“Hey so,” Ben said to Sammy over dinner one night, when it was just the two of them and Emily, Jack gone on a mission with Lily. Lily hadn’t taken to Ben quite so immediately, but she had found it extremely amusing that a college student had taken down the security systems and not been caught for a fully week. “Not that I haven’t enjoyed my time here but - I sort of have a test tomorrow? And I can miss classes, but I can’t miss the test. If I fail this class, I can’t graduate on time.”

Sammy stared back, not sure what he was asking. Emily stepped on his foot. 

“Sammy can borrow my car tomorrow,” Emily said meaningfully, though her voice remained light, “and take you to Mines. Isn’t that right, Sammy?”

Sammy hadn’t driven a car in a year and a half. Emily stepped on his foot again, more of a stomp this time. “.....Yeah, um, okay.”

Ben chattered at Sammy during their half-hour drive to Rapid City about anything and everything. Sammy had mostly avoided Ben when he could, which was easy since he didn’t live at the B&B, but Ben had a million questions about the Warehouse, some of which Jack and Emily couldn’t answer. 

Since Sammy had no idea where the hell Ben would be in a week’s time, and what he would remember, he answered with as much candor as he could. 

“I know you can’t control what happens next,” Ben said suddenly when they were almost there. “But - if I end up dead, or in that Bronze place you showed me - can you make sure my mom’s taken care of? I don’t care what happens to me - I mean, obviously I’d prefer to stay alive - but I wanna make sure that she’ll be taken care of when I’m gone.”

“Ben,” Sammy said, a sudden ferocity that he hadn’t felt in years taking over, “I’m not going to let anyone hurt you.”

Sammy drops Ben off next to his building on-campus, and Sammy calls Steven fucking Grisham and yells for a full twenty minutes. 

_ Hire him, then,  _ Grisham had said, scaldingly sarcastic. 

So that’s exactly what Sammy did. 

He told Ben when Ben bounded back into the car two hours later, and Ben hugged him tight enough to break bones. 

No one hugged Sammy much, those days. Jack and Lily were still new enough that they kept their distance, and Sammy avoided Emily’s sympathetic gaze whenever he could. 

Ben, though - Ben didn’t know any better, and so he hugged him. And kept hugging him, as he took over half of Sammy’s office, built his video game corner, updated the computer systems to stop crazy kids like him from breaking in, talked to Jack about paranormal television, blushed when Emily talked to him, and - 

And made them a family. It wasn’t until Ben showed up and claimed his rightful place as their collective kid brother that they all slotted together so perfectly. He’d been their missing piece, the last remaining link, and through his outstandingly high charisma and love, they all became each other’s family.

And now Sammy has the power to destabilize that family, and it’s the last thing in the world he wants to do - but he still doesn’t feel like he deserves that family in the first place.


	5. Five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it's very possible I'll write a sequel/companion piece to this because I've remembered a lot of things I really like about Warehouse 13 and how they handle character narrative and backstory. So....you'll maybe see that soon!

Jack and Lily have the day off, and Sammy had planned on giving Ben the day off with them so he could have another day to skulk alone in the Warehouse aisles. He only has a week left now until he has to give the Regents an answer, after all. 

Then, through a barrage of serious guilt and terror, Sammy makes himself text Ben and tell him they’re cleaning the Madrid Section today. 

Ben’s not upset when he comes in. Ben’s never upset about coming to the Warehouse. Learning the paranormal was real was one of the best things to ever happen to Ben, Sammy knows. 

Ben does ask a million questions about Herschel that Sammy deftly avoids answering in their entirety, and that gets Ben to make faces. Still, he seems perfectly content as he sweeps the floor near Edgar Allen Poe’s various artifacts, humming a song that Sammy thinks is from Rent.

They have a system - Ben sweeps while Sammy handles the artifacts, wearing gloves the whole time, because Ben can’t be trusted to accidentally misfire one. He’s clumsy like that.

Ben makes a new record today - it takes him a full hour before he somehow crashes into the side of a shelving unit. Sammy blinks over at him, not concerned since he sees that no artifacts have been jostled.

“Alright?” Sammy asks, a little amused, though his heart’s pounding in his chest. He and Ben haven’t worked in silence, per se - Ben’s incapable of silence - but they haven’t talked about anything meaningful, and Sammy knows that he has to find the courage to tell Ben right now or he might never. 

Ben ignores Sammy, instead choosing to pat the shelf as if he’s comforting it. “Sorry, Warehouse. I’ll try to do better next time.”

Sammy smiles despite himself. “You think the Warehouse can hear you?”

“Of course it can,” Ben says like Sammy’s stupid if he thinks otherwise. “It’s not a person - but it’s like, the closest a building can get to a person. C’mon, I _know _ you know that.”

“Yeah, I know,” Sammy admits, and then before he can stop himself, says “You know, Ben, someday you’ll have my job.”

Ben’s eyes widen, and he sets down his broom. 

Oh, Sammy must have said that with  _ way  _ more gravity than he meant to.

“What do you mean?” Ben’s voice is half-suspicious, but Sammy can tell by the way he starts hitting a higher register that now he’s nervous. 

“Nothing, just - just that you love this place, you could stay here,” Sammy’s talking too much now, and the suspicion seems to vanish from Ben the more he does. Now he’s just radiating concern, blinking up at Sammy. “You’d be good at my job, Ben.”

You’ll have my job, Ben, is what Sammy doesn’t say. You’ll have my job if I become the Caretaker. 

“How could I have your job?” Ben says, and Sammy can tell from the way he laughs that the tension Sammy created hasn’t diffused, not in the slightest. “You - you’ll be here forever. Maybe even literally. Right?”

God, that hits home worse than Sammy expected. 

He needs to tell Ben. Sammy knows with perfect clarity that he  _ needs  _ to tell Ben, right now, immediately, because Ben’s right here and he’s worried and he’s going to stay worried. Sammy doesn’t want to upset him, but he knows that he has to, he has to get these words out. 

“About that,” Sammy stares at his feet, not at Ben. “I could be.”

“Um - what?” 

Sammy sighs, exhausted immediately from the mental fatigue, and takes his gloves off. He gestures to Ben to come closer, and Sammy slides his back against a shelving unit until he’s sitting down. He feels like he needs to sit down for this. 

Ben doesn’t quite sit, but he perches next to Sammy, green eyes too worried and loving. He grabs Sammy’s wrist. 

“What is it?” There’s an urgency to Ben’s voice, and Sammy can tell he hasn’t figured it out on his own. He just knows something’s wrong, and wants to fix it. Ben could fix anything, Sammy’s pretty sure. 

He can’t fix this until Sammy tells him what the fuck is happening, though, so Sammy steels himself with a shaky breath. 

“Remember my meeting with the Regents last week?” Sammy asks, and Ben nods, his grip tightening. It’s almost painful. Ben really needs to cut his fingernails. “They, um. They told me that Merv was retiring. And they asked me…..they asked me to take his job.”

Ben’s fingernails cut into Sammy’s skin so tightly Sammy’s sure it’ll leave marks. 

“Caretaker,” Ben whispers, and stops perching. Instead, he folds his legs beneath him to sit criss-cross, facing Sammy, grip tight. That’s alright, though. Sammy doesn’t mind. “Sammy, you can’t. I mean - are you - did you say -”

“I have a week to decide,” Sammy says quickly, and Ben doesn’t relax but the terrifying energy thrumming off of him becomes less intense. “Ben, it - it wouldn’t change everything. I’d still be here, just - just not all the time. I don’t really know the rules, yet. But I’d be here. You could have my job. Everything would be fine, I’d just - I’d just be a little...different.”

“I don’t want you different,” Ben’s voice shakes, and Sammy leans in to hug Ben before the tears start falling. 

It’s a close call - Sammy gets one arm around Ben’s waist, and Ben folds into him immediately, a small whimper escaping his mouth. He buries his head in Sammy’s neck, and Sammy reaches a hand up to smooth his hair. 

“It’s alright,” Sammy says, clumsy, not knowing if he’s telling the truth. 

“I don’t want anything to be different,” Ben chokes out into Sammy’s collarbone, but Sammy understands every word. “Things are good now. They’re so good - with me, and Emily, and you - this is all I’ve ever wanted, and you’re - you’re -”

“Ben,” Sammy hugs him tighter. “I’ll always be here. Always here for - for the Warehouse, and for you -”

Sammy knows they both realize that he said the Warehouse first - and that the Warehouse would, inevitably, have to be first. 

“What about you, though?” Ben breaks away from the hug, wiping his eyes as he stares up at Sammy, eyes huge like the horrible realization just settled in. “You’d - you’d live  _ forever,  _ Sammy.”

Sammy nods, his throat too tight and constricted to properly answer. 

Ben’s face crumples even more than it already has. “What am I supposed to do when I’m old and you’re still the same? When I know I’m going to die and you’re still just -  _ the same _ ? And knowing that no matter what’s out there after this, you won’t ever be there?”

Ben’s not a religious person, Sammy knows - but he’s the kind of person who believes in a great unknowable  _ something.  _ And Ben’s absolutely the kind of person who wants his friends there with him, in whatever that something may be. 

Sammy can’t even begin to think about that, or his head will hurt and the tears will come, and everything will be a lost cause. Instead, he says, “It wouldn’t be so bad. I’d be different, but I’d always be there to protect you.”

Ben blinks at him, eyes narrowing like he can’t believe Sammy just said that. “I don’t  _ want  _ you to protect me. Or at least not just that. I want you to be my best friend who sings Grease songs with me and who I teach how to play videogames, who I take Lucy on walks with - you shouldn’t be some unknowable, powerful force, Sammy. _ You should be my best friend .” _

“Ben,” Sammy’s helpless, “I will if I can be.”

“Please don’t take the job,” Ben’s lip quivers. “I know you - you have problems, that you’re not as happy here as I am. As we all are. I don’t know why, but - but it could get better for you, Sammy. If you just let us make you better. If you let me fix whatever hurts rather than becoming something that can’t  _ be  _ hurt.”

“When’d you get so perceptive?” Sammy finds himself wiping at his own eyes, trying not to sniffle. 

“Who else knows?” Ben asks after they both sit quietly for a moment, Ben’s hand still clamped around Sammy’s wrist. Sammy doesn’t think he’ll ever let go - that he’ll have to drag Ben around with him wherever he goes from now on. It’s almost comforting. 

“Everyone but Jack,” Sammy admits. Ben sits up straighter, his shoulders tightening. It’s like Sammy flipped a switch on him, and Ben’s eyes go back to their previous levels of suspicious. 

“You like him back,” Ben says, and it’s not a question. Sammy doesn’t feel the need to respond because Ben clearly knows the answer. “Jack’s never been able to tell - but I have. I always knew how much you liked him. You get so nervous and excited whenever you see him, whenever he gets home, even though you’ve known him for years. It’s the same every time.” 

Sammy didn’t know he’d been so obvious, but then again, Ben spends more time alone with him than anyone else ever has or probably ever will. 

“I never got why you guys weren’t together,” Ben keeps going, “other than the obvious, which is that you’re scared to be vulnerable, or open up, or let people in. It’s why you live here when you could live with the rest of us. You clearly love the B&B, but it’s like you force yourself to leave, every Sunday.”

“Ben,” Sammy starts, trying to explain something, anything, about why he’s the way he is, but Ben doesn’t let him. 

“Being Caretaker means not letting people in, ever,” Ben’s eyes well up with tears again, “but if you did that, you could never be with Jack. You could spend your whole life with him, Sammy. You could spend your life with  _ me.  _ And Emily, and Lily. We all love you, we all want you to live with us. And I make fun of Jack, all the time, about when do I get to be your kids’ uncle. But I want that, Sammy. I want that  _ so  _ badly. You wouldn’t be happy as the Caretaker. You just wouldn’t. But you could be happy with us.”

Ben’s face breaks into a short sob. “Please be happy with us.”

Sammy hugs him again, but doesn’t say anything. He wants to tell Ben that he will be, that he’s going to try so hard to be happy with them. That he’ll move in and let Ben teach him whatever PS4 games he wants, that he’ll ask Jack on a date. That he’ll make them breakfast the next morning. 

He wants to say he’ll tell the Regents no. Unequivocally, forever a no, because he has a family he wants to stay with. 

He doesn’t say that, though. He doesn’t say anything, because he doesn’t want to make Ben a promise he can’t keep. 

Sammy doesn’t want to be the Caretaker. He doesn’t. He knows it won’t make him happy. 

And yet, Sammy still can’t make himself promise Ben  _ no.  _

Sammy feels Lucille Ball coming in his head before she leaps between him and Ben, trying to nestle against both of their laps. 

_ Stop sad, stop sad, stop sad! _

“Lucille Ball wants us to stop being sad,” Sammy usually doesn’t communicate Lucille’s thoughts to anyone else, but he’ll make an exception this time. He breaks apart from Ben, who has a watery smile. He leans down to stroke Lucille Ball’s head. She stares up at them both, green eyes accusing. 

_ Don’t want sad! _

“Sorry, Lucy,” Ben leans down to kiss her. “I’ll try not to be, just for you. I love you, Lucy.”

_ Baby kitty,  _ Lucille Ball purrs, batting at Ben.  _ Baby kitty shouldn’t be sad.  _

Sammy can’t help but laugh, just a little, and Ben suddenly gets a determined glint in his eye as he notices. Ben’s determined glints always mean he’s going to get his way - Sammy hopes that somehow, Ben gets his way this time. 

“I love you, too, Sammy,” Ben doesn’t reach out again, and his voice is very small, but firm. “I know I can’t - can’t tell you what to do. But please don’t ever leave me.” 

Sammy doesn’t answer right away, instead shifting so that he and Ben are sitting side by side instead of facing each other, and he leans over to rest his head on Ben’s shoulder.

Ben makes a surprised noise - Sammy knows he’s not the tactile one here, and though Ben rests his head on Sammy at least once a week, Sammy’s never returned the favor. 

“I love you, too,” Sammy says quietly after a moment, because that’s a promise he knows, without a doubt, he can keep. 

* * *

_ Can you come over? I need to talk to you. _

Sammy sends the text to Jack with shaking hands, forcing himself to type every single word. He stares at the message for at least five minutes before he sends it, and that’s only through a burst of adrenaline and extreme mental effort not to stop himself.

Sammy feels his phone buzz a minute later, sees Jack wrote  _ yeah give me 15,  _ and resigns himself to hyperventilating with his head between his knees for the next fifteen minutes.

Lucille Ball curls up against his feet. She usually doesn’t come in Sammy’s room unless it’s bedtime, but she’s clearly making an exception today.  _ Don’t worry.  _

“Worry is what I do, you should know that,” Sammy mumbles, but he reaches down to pet Lucille all the same. She sits up, stretching, and blinks at him with her luminous eyes. 

_ Leave you alone?  _

Jesus, even his cat is giving him privacy in his great hour of need. Sammy nods, and Lucille pushes her head against Sammy’s leg one more time before she trots out of the open door, through Sammy’s office, and down the stairs into the Warehouse aisles. 

Great. Alone again. Sammy doesn’t want to get used to it, because -

“Sammy?” 

Jack appears in the doorway, wearing a rumpled button-down. He’d been at the Warehouse with Lily and Ben earlier today, they’d all sprayed down the doors to the Dark Vault again to make them more impenetrable. Ben and Lily had both kept giving Sammy pointed looks, and he knew that it wasn’t fair to leave Jack out of this conversation any longer.

It terrifies Sammy, the idea of telling Jack what’s going on in his head - because he can’t just tell Jack about the offer. He has to tell Jack how he feels about him, how he’s  _ always  _ felt about him. It's so entangled within how Sammy thinks of this offer, it would be impossible not to tell Jack the sordid, awful details. 

And he should also tell Jack a few other things, as long as he’s here. As long as they have to undergo this traumatic conversation, there are things Jack should know, explanations and justifications that don’t make up for three years of pretending that he doesn't know Jack wants him. 

“Is this your room?” Jack asks, taking a tentative step into the doorway, eyes casting around the broom cupboard-like space with concern. All that’s in here is Sammy’s cot, basically. Nothing else can really fit. Sammy’s computer, Lucille’s food and litter box, that’s all in the office. “You sleep here? Every night?”

“Yeah,” Sammy admits, feeling his face heat up. 

Jack’s jaw sets. “There are plenty of rooms at Emily’s. Some very, very far away from the rest of ours. You could still have privacy there - and a proper mattress.”

Sammy supposes this is as good of place to start as any. “I used to live at Emily’s. Before.”

Jack stares, and seems to realize this is an invitation that Sammy rarely extends. He takes a couple tentative steps into the room, before he looks at Sammy’s bed with an unsure expression.

Sammy, despite himself, nods and pats the bed next to him. Jack sits, and his weight makes the bed creak. Jack’s right - it’s not a proper mattress. 

“You moved out when we moved in,” Jack says, final like it isn’t a question. Like he’s blaming himself for it. 

“Six months before. I moved out six months before, when - when Herschel left. It didn't have anything to do with you. It didn't, I swear.”

“Oh,” Jack says, frowning a bit, and Sammy realizes this isn’t the right place to begin. 

“I have something to tell you,” Sammy says, then corrects, “Ask you. Something to ask you.”

“I...yeah?” Jack looks at him through his lashes, hazel eyes a little wary. So much has gone unspoken between them, Sammy doesn’t know if Jack has any expectations of what Sammy's going to say next, and what they are if he does. 

Sammy doesn’t know what words will come out, where he’s going to begin, until the words begin to spill out, unbidden and without his permission. “My parents kicked me out when I was sixteen, and I lived in my car for three years.”

That’s not what Sammy thought he was going to say - but he supposes the beginning is as good a place to start as any. No one knows the beginning, no one’s known that in a long time. Especially not here. Sammy's tried to forget the beginning for most of the middle. 

“I - Jesus,” Jack says, eyes wide. He leans in, just slightly, just so their shoulders touch. “I’m sorry, that’s horrible.”

“I - I managed to go to community college, somehow, and got an apartment,” Sammy keeps going, not sure what’s important and what isn’t. “I got hired at the National Archives before, before I came here. Merv recruited me. I was never sure why, I never believed in any of this stuff - not like you or, or Ben. But for some reason, he chose me. I think maybe because I didn’t have anything else? I’ve always thought maybe the Warehouse could sense that - sense who needs it.”

Jack’s voice is soft and contemplative, matching his eyes. “I’ve always thought that, too.”

“I was lonely, and - and this place was home,” Sammy stumbles, because now they’re reaching the part of the story that hurts the most. “Herschel was the lead agent when I got here - Cecil was his field partner.”

“Cecil,” Jack repeats, and the hushed quality of his tone makes Sammy think he knows what’s coming next. 

“Cecil Sheffiled, he - he died...six months before you and Lily got here.”

The words hang between them as Jack nods. Sammy knows that the correlation between his moving out of Emily’s and Cecil’s death isn’t lost on Jack. 

“Sammy,” Jack says, slow, “why are you telling me this right now?” 

Well. Sammy supposes he might have to skip forward, just slightly. 

“Because Merv is retiring,” these words, at least, come easier than Sammy expected. “And I was asked to become the next Caretaker.”

Jack’s silent. His expression doesn’t change. 

Sammy can’t take the silence, it’s worse than the story, so he goes back. “I don’t want to take the job. I don’t, but - but I feel like I have to, as - as a sort of penance, for what happened to Cecil.”

Jack’s voice is too gentle for Sammy to take. “What happened to Cecil?” 

Sammy breathes in. 

“I’ve never told anyone this,” Sammy whispers. He’s told others - Herschel, Emily, the Regents - about what happened that day, but not why. Not the lead-up. Not the gigantic bruise that formed over his heart that day and never healed properly. Not about the one thing that prevents him from ever letting go of this. 

Sammy feels Jack move closer, and then Sammy has an arm around his shoulder. Jack’s arm, solid and comforting and so much more than Sammy deserves. 

“It’s okay,” Jack nearly whispers. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”

“I need to, though, because it’s - I need to apologize to you.”

“No, you don’t.”

“Yes,” pinprick tears form in the corners of Sammy’s eyes. “I do. Cecil died because - because there was a man who wanted access to the Warehouse. A former agent, an enemy of Herschel’s. His name was Judd Gunderson.”

Jack stills for a moment. “He’s in the Bronze chamber, isn’t he?”

Sammy nods. “But Gunderson couldn’t get in here on his own - Warehouse agents who betray the place get a compound in their blood that makes it impossible without help. He needed someone else to get in first to neutralize the effect, and then he could break in.”

Sammy shudders. Moment of truth. 

“My boyfriend,” Sammy says, and he feels Jack’s arm tighten almost imperceptibly. “He asked my boyfriend. My one person who knew about the Warehouse. I’d just told him a few weeks before it happened. I really thought I could trust him. I don’t know what Gunderson offered him - money, I guess. Access to artifacts. But he let Gunderson in, and then he killed Cecil before Herschel apprehended them both.”

Sammy looks at his feet, not at Jack, but that doesn’t stop him from noticing when Jack’s other arm comes up to pull Sammy toward him. Sammy lets his head fall against Jack not because he’s trying to, he just doesn’t know what else his body can do right now. 

“Sammy -” Jack starts, so soft.

“The Regents know that it’s my fault, that he was my One,” Sammy whispers. “Emily knows. Herschel even knows now. But they all think that Micah had been in cahoots with Gunderson from the beginning. That it’s the only reason he was interested in me in the first place, to get access to the Warehouse. But it wasn’t like that. He was my boyfriend, for real. We’d talked about being together for the rest of our lives, and I know he meant it. He didn’t know about the Warehouse until I told him. And all it took was a few promises from Gunderson to get him to betray me.”

Sammy’s all too aware of the feeling of Jack’s arms around him, the tightening grip, Jack cursing under his breath. 

“That’s not your fault,” Jack says. “That’s the most horrible thing I’ve ever heard in my life, but it’s  _ not  _ your fault. You’re the victim here as much as Cecil. Why - why you think you deserve penance for that -”

“I spent two years with him - could’ve spent the rest of my life with him, and I would’ve never known how little I mattered to him,” Sammy chokes out. “That he could do that to me without a second thought. If that hadn’t happened, I might still be with him. I’m just that stupid, and desperate, and - and I think that if I became Caretaker, I could stop being so vulnerable. I could make up for my stupidity and make sure no one else was ever as stupid as I was again."

Jack’s quiet for a moment before he speaks, and when he does it’s with a kind of gravity Sammy’s never heard from him. “You wouldn’t have spent the rest of your life with him.”

Sammy lifts his head, just enough to look Jack in the eye. His expression is steely, and sure, and maybe a little scared himself as he looks down at Sammy. Hazel eyes - Micah’s had been blue. Sammy hates comparing the two of them, wishes his mind wouldn’t go there. Because Jack doesn’t deserve that. Jack's never been anything like him, not even who Micah had been in the beginning. Who Sammy thought he was. 

“I could’ve,” Sammy admits, but Jack shakes his head. “I’m sure there were other warning signs but - I just missed them. I would’ve kept missing them.”

“I would’ve helped you,” Jack says, and Sammy frowns. 

“Jack, without Cecil dying - Herschel leaving - you wouldn’t be here.”

“I would have,” Jack says, serious and sure. “I would’ve found a way to be here.”

For some reason, Sammy believes his conviction. 

They’re quiet for a moment, and Jack’s arms don’t move from around Sammy. He doesn’t know what to do with his own arms, wants to reach for Jack as well, but he isn’t sure if that’s allowed. 

“I want to protect this place, to make up for it,” Sammy says, and feels Jack shift uncomfortably, “but I also worry I’m not cut out for it. That even with the Caretaker’s power, I’d still fall short.”

“Sammy…” Jack hesitates. “No one in the world loves this place the way you do. Not even me or Ben, even if we are true believers. You’re already a part of his place, you already take care of it, even without the official title.”

Sammy's suddenly struck with the horrible fear that Jack’s certainly picked up on the subtext of this conversation, about what it means for the two of them, but he’s decided Sammy’s too damaged for him, that Sammy should be Caretaker instead of lead an ordinary life, because that’s the only thing he could ever be good at. He’s clearly not good at romance and now Jack has the proof. 

“What -” Sammy clears his throat weakly. “Are you - do you think - think I should take the job?”

Jack flinches away from him, arms falling from Sammy and to his sides. Sammy sits up fully again, leaning away from Jack instead of closer. Jack’s eyes are huge, and utterly bewildered. 

“What? Fuck no,” Jack swears, and Sammy suddenly and acutely feels tension drain away from him. Then Jack bites his lip, and Sammy recognizes guilt in the furrow of his brow. “I mean - that’s selfish of me. If you want the job, you should take it. But if you’re just taking it as some sort of self-inflicted punishment - then I’m begging you not to. If there’s another reason -”

“Not a better one,” Sammy admits, and then forces out the words he was too embarrassed to say in front of anyone else, “only that being Caretaker would give me something to blame other than myself for being the way I am.” 

“Why would you want something to blame for that?” Jack blinks at him, too kind. “I love the way you are, Sammy.” 

“Jack,” Sammy doesn’t think Jack would ever be purposefully cruel, but this feels needless, “I’m so damaged that I couldn’t even sit at a fucking lake with you for half an hour to watch the sunset without having a panic attack about my evil ex. I’m so distant and repressed that I’d rather sleep in a cot alone than in a house where all my friends live. I’ve wanted to date you since I met you but I sequestered myself in this room rather than have a serious conversation with you about -”

Jack kisses him. 

It’s just a peck, half a second long, and Jack looks apologetic and terrified as he pulls away.

“I’m sorry,” Jack’s words come out more like a panicked breath than a sentence. 

“Don’t be,” Sammy says back, knowing he sounds just as shell-shocked. “I just - I’m just - I don’t know - know what to do -"

“I think…” Jack looks down, and Sammy thinks it’s to avoid his gaze - but then Jack takes Sammy’s hand in his own and squeezes. “I think you should move into the B&B. Ben and I have video game marathons that I know he wants you to be a part of. And you should help Emily cook - because you’re so good at it, and it’s being wasted here with your microwavable meals. And you should let me take you on dates - we can avoid lakes if you want, but - Univille has plenty of dive bars. We don’t have to hold hands, but we do have to go. And I don’t want you to belong to the Warehouse for an eternity, because then you’ll feel guilty forever, you’ll never move on. But if you’re mine - if you’re  _ ours _ -”

Jack’s voice tremors, and Sammy finds himself squeezing Jack’s hands back. He wants Jack to kiss him again. He wants to kiss Jack again. 

“I love you,” Jack says, matter-of-fact, like it’s a given. Sammy feels all the breath go out of his lungs, “I want - I want to be with you. That’s probably been clear for years now. But more than anything, I just want you to live a good life. And that’s not what’ll happen if you’re Caretaker. I know it. I know you love the Warehouse, but you deserve a life outside of it. It doesn’t have to be with me, but -”

Sammy kisses Jack this time, and though he doesn’t manage to keep his lips there for anything longer than a second, he’s not surprised this time and he can focus on how Jack is soft and warm and perfect. 

“What would be the point, if it wasn’t with you?” Sammy manages to get out with a weak chuckle, and Jack smiles back. There would be a point, though - because there’s Ben, and Emily, and Lily, and even Herschel. 

Sammy needs all of them - he needs of all of them to have the strength to say  _ no.  _ Jack’s the last piece of the puzzle, just like Ben had been when he came here. Now everything makes sense - now everything can slot into place, and they can be a family, and Sammy can say  _ no.  _

Maybe that makes Sammy needy - but then again, he’s always been the thorough type. 

* * *

“Thank you for your consideration, but I’m going to have to pass.”

Sammy’s back in the diner, Grisham opposite him and Cynthia on his left, just as uncomfortable as he’d been here two weeks prior. Cynthia wrinkles her nose in disgust at him, though for some reason Grisham gives him a satisfied smile. 

“Ugh,” Cynthia reaches into her overlarge handbag and pulls out a twenty which she hands to Grisham. 

“You bet on me?” Sammy aghast, stares between them. Grisham smirks, pocketing the money. 

“I thought you’d relish in the power,” Cynthia rolls her eyes violently.

“And I thought you’d be too much of a coward,” Grisham says. Sammy isn’t sure which of them he wants to punch more - well, no, Grisham for sure. 

“Well, I’m not taking the job,” Sammy folds in on himself slightly. 

“Three guesses why,” Cynthia says, and pulls at Sammy’s sleeve. Sammy remembers that he’s wearing one of Jack’s high school wrestling sweatshirts, and sort of wants to die. 

Whatever. It’s a nice sweatshirt, and it smells like Jack’s cologne which is honestly quite comforting and makes Sammy feel like Jack’s close by. Sammy refuses to feel ashamed about that. 

“It’s alright,” Grisham waves his hand as if Sammy’s personal life doesn’t concern him in the slightest. “We have a contingency plan, and he’s already agreed to take the position.”

“I - uh - what?” Sammy stares at Grisham, not sure who he could possibly be referring to. The Caretaker wasn’t really an outside hire sort of position. Not to mention that they hadn’t even heard his answer before this guy apparently agreed. “One of the Regents? Is it Ron?” 

“You picked the wrong curse-happy bastard,” Cynthia mutters under her breath, and Sammy’s heart freezes in his chest. 

“You don’t mean -”

“Jesus, Stevens, is that a salad I see on your plate? Once I’m back in the Warehouse, I’ll have to institute some new rules about mealtimes. If there’s not meat, it’s not a meal!” 

Sammy stares, trying not to gape, as Herschel appears right in front of his eyes, sitting opposite Grisham like he had just poofed into existence. Sammy remembers when Merv used to do that, how he’d jump every time. 

“You - you already - you -”

“Close your mouth or I’ll confuse you for a fish and jam a hook down your throat,” Herschel advises. Grisham rolls his eyes and looks out the window rather than at Herschel, and Cynthia makes a disapproving noise in the back of her throat. “I wasn’t gonna let you take this job, son. Not for nothing. So I took it before you got the chance.”

Sammy wants to hit him. Sammy wants to cuss him out. Mainly, he sort of wants to cry, because Herschel cares that much about him. 

There’s something more youthful about Herschel today. He doesn’t look like a young man again - far from it - but he’s holding his shoulders like there’s no pain there anymore. The wrinkles in his face are less pronounced. There’s a satisfaction to his expression too, like he’d been waiting for a chance to get back out there in the world.

“I was sick of retirement, anyway,” Herschel says as if he’s reading Sammy’s mind. “Only so many fish you can catch without a best friend there to needle. I needed to get out and do some good in the world, and I started with making sure you can live your life without these clowns interfering.”

Herschel jabs Grisham in the side with his elbow, and Grisham glares but doesn’t respond. Herschel’s sort of his boss now, after all, Sammy realizes.

“But Herschel,” Sammy struggles to find a way to phrase this that won’t piss him off, “it’s forever. Cecil and Edna -”

“Cecil and Edna are gone,” Herschel says, and though his voice starts strong, it gets a little gentler as he finishes the thought. “I got to live a great, long life with my two best friends. And I think you’ve got four of them that could really use you around.” 

“But -”

“You’re just gonna have to put up with me for the rest of your goddamn life, Stevens,” Herschel’s grin is nearly delighted. Grisham and Cynthia look as though they’ve swallowed lemons. “And I’d like to see that place zap away any of my leagues of personality. I’m not disappearing like Merv, that’s for damn sure.”

Sammy supposes he’s right - if there’s anyone he trusts to remain a full person while still being the Caretaker, it’s Herschel Baumgardner. Herschel’s never let anything stop him from being exactly who he is. 

“I’m gonna need to have a talk with the pipsqueak sometime soon about the new fucking technology in that place,” Herschel says, “and I haven’t even vetted that boy of yours yet. He looks like he could bench press you, so I’m gonna have to make sure that’s all consensual. That’s a word I learned from Tumblr, it’s very important.”

_ “ Oh my God.” _

“Ms. Potter and I have a lot to catch up on, and I’ll have to put in my request for steak dinners. That was my first question, if I could still eat steak as Caretaker. I don’t  need  food anymore, but at least I can still enjoy life’s simplest pleasures. I take it you’ve moved out of that sad little cupboard in the Warehouse? Good. I don’t need a room, don’t need sleep in general now, but I don’t want or need you in that place 24/7. That’s my job now. Go have a fucking life for a change, kid. And another thing -”

Sammy finds himself begin to smile. All things considered, he supposes he's grateful. 


End file.
